She Will Be Loved
by Indigo3468
Summary: Walking home from a bar one night, Molly is brutally attacked. She reaches out to John for help but instead is saved by Sherlock. Now, both John and Sherlock work together to bring Molly back from the pain and terror she has endured and to bring down the man who brought this upon her, Moriarty himself. Rated M for violence and possible adult themes in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hi Everyone. This is my first fanfic, so please be gentle and enjoy. I have quite a bit of this written, so please R&R and if you like it, then I will post more.**

**Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own any of this. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.**

Molly knew she shouldn't have walked home alone that night. Out with some friends from uni, she had had so much fun tonight and, honestly, had gotten a little drunk...okay... a lot drunk, plus she forgot all her cash at home, so since her apartment was only a few blocks away, she decided to walk home instead of take a cab. She turned and said goodbye to her friends and headed home.

About two blocks away, Molly heard a rustling noise down a side street that she was walking by. Okay... it was more of an alley than a side street but who was counting? Feeling braver than most would suspect from her, she took a peek down the dark street way and saw a flash of grey fur between two trash bins. Then she heard the noise again, so she walked a little further down until she made it to a dead end.

About to turn back home, out from behind a trash bin jumped a grey cat. It looked up at her with the most brilliant green eyes and started to wind through her legs. Molly loved cats. She has one at home and on many of her sweaters. In fact, she even had a little tattoo that few know about of one and so she could easily tell that this wasn't just an alley cat but was someone's pet... someone's Toby.

She bent down to pet the cat and scratched it behind its ears. It began to purr and turned its face up towards her. 'Oh, someone's a pretty kitty, aren't they?' she said.

Suddenly, there was another sound behind her. 'Oh. Do you have a friend?' she asked. As she was about to get up to look behind her for the other cat, she felt a hand on her back... a very large, strong hand along with the steely cold outline of what could only be a gun. Molly jolted up and tried to scream but it got stuck in her throat.

'Look at this pretty young thing, Joey.' a deep husky voice snarled directly into her ear to his companion that Molly could hear a few feet away.

He lifted his other hand up to her ponytail and broke the clasp holding Molly's red hair back. Her hair fell around her shoulders. He - this horrible man who towered over her by at least a foot and had 100 pounds on her of what all seemed to be muscle based on the body he pressed against her - picked up a strand of hair and sniffed it.

'Moriarty never said how pretty she was and that she would smell so good.'

Molly could feel her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. She felt his hand leave her back and she turned to run but then it all went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Couldn't wait to post the next chapter. Hope you enjoy... Don't worry lots of John and Sherlock coming soon.

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

When she woke up, the men were gone, but so were her clothes. She looked around and found herself laying behind a dumpster and covered with a cardboard box and some garbage bags...almost as if she was tossed aside as garbage once they were done with her. She shivered.

She was in so much pain and was tempted to lie there a little longer but she could feel the blood dripping down from her temple. She rolled to her side and moaned. She looked around and saw her clothes nearby. Suddenly she heard something across the alley and her heart raced. Maybe the men aren't gone after all... but instead she saw a rat scamper off out of the corner of her eye. Normally she would scream at the sight of a rat but, instead, she sighed in relief.

'Oh God,' She whimpered as she closed her eyes again and reached out for her jeans and jumper, 'Oh God.'

She dressed as the tears streamed down her face and she frantically searched the alley for her purse and her keys but Jim's men must have taken them because she couldn't find them anywhere. She doubled over with pain in her abdomen and sinked back to the pavement and began to sob. As she sat there, she felt her phone in her back pocket. It seemed they didn't get everything...

Bringing it up to her face, she realized she didn't know who to call. Not the police or DI Lestrade. Definitely not Sherlock. She loved him with all her heart but she couldn't... she couldn't let him or any of them see her like this...so broken and damaged. How would she ever be able to look any of them in the eye again? She curled into a ball and realized there was really only one person she could call...the right person. He was a doctor after all.

She ran through her contacts quickly and found John's number. She pressed call and it rang once.

'What!?"

'John?' She croaked - realizing quickly how much it hurt to talk and that it wasn't John.

'John isn't here, Molly.'

' Help me' - Wait - did she say that out loud or not? Her head hurt so much.

'John isn't here, Molly. That dumb twit left his phone here so I couldn't text him on his date. What if something happens? How am I supposed to get a hold of him?' Sherlock ranted oblivious to what Molly said.

'Sherlock?'

'Yes, Molly. Obviously. What's wrong with your voice?'

'Sherlock. Help... Sherlock, help me.' She whimpered as she felt the pain taking over. 'I saw a cat... but then these men came... in a back alley... It's getting so cold.' She shivered and started to lose focus but knew she gave him the right clue and that he was on his way.

'Molly!' She heard come from her phone as it clattered to the ground right before she blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

Author Note: Thanks to everyone who is following and have already posted reviews. :-) Please remember this is my first fic,so Sherlock may be a little OOC but this is what I imagine him like after seeing him care for Mrs. Hudson in SAB.

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

'Molly!' Sherlock yelled into the phone but there was no answer on the other end.

'_Now what?'_ He thought to himself.

He sifted through the clues:

Time: 2:00 AM

Day: A Tuesday

Molly: Normally a homebody out on a week night? Must have been out with friends for dinner. Why else would she be out? Dinner and drinks at this hour - so at least slightly inebriated by this point in the evening depending on the number of drinks she had between dinner and now. She would have taken a cab if it had been too far to walk so she must have been within walking distance of her apartment.

He knew his town well. He also knew his pathologist well and knew she likely would have considered six blocks walking distance based on her inebriated state. Going through a map of London in his head, as he donned his coat and scarf, he brought up a five block radius of Molly's apartment. There were only three alleys with dead ends, which is likely what she meant by a 'back' alley. One of the three was on the way home from a bar he knew she frequented since she had invited him to it multiple times since he'd known her.

'_Hold tight, Molly. I'm on my way.'_ He thought as he flagged down a cab.

oOoOo

He ran down the alley.

_'Damn cabbie. 9 minutes and 26 seconds. I should have been here 2 minutes ago.'_

He looked around and saw her foot peeking from behind the trash bin... her bare foot. He rushed towards her and saw a bundle of jeans and sweater curled into a fetal position - shivering... no... crying - as snow gently began to fall around her. He saw her curl up tighter as she heard his footsteps on the pavement... obviously scared of what might be coming. He reached her quickly and crouched next to her. Immediately, he could see what had happened... the haphazard way her buttons were done up...her hair down, unusual in itself, but also clumped and matted with blood ... her bare feet ... the blood under her nails and pooling under her temple... the streaks of tears down her cheeks.

'Molly?' He said gently as he leaned in to touch her.

She gasped and jerked away from his outstretched hand.

'Molly - you're okay. I'm here now.'

'Sherlock?' She whimpered.

'Yes... it's me. Now you have to let me see where you're hurt. I can see the pool of blood under your cheek. Not enough that you will pass out from but enough for me to know that you must be hurt. Please can you turn your head and let me see?'

She looked up at him with big eyes and he could see the terror of the night lingering there, but then they focused on his eyes and registered him trustworthy enough for her to lift her lead and turn it ever so slightly.

He reached out again, and with his long elegant fingers, he felt the wound and the bump on her head that had started to grow and from which she was bleeding. She hissed as he touched her and pulled back.

'Lestrade and his team on their way and should be here shortly. I called John on his date - at Angelo's, of course - and he should be here soon as well.'

'No, Sherlock. No - I don't want anyone to see me like this.' She continued to cry - scrunching her eyes shut and pushing the heels of her bloody hands into them. 'You - you weren't even supposed to see me like this...'

Sherlock reached his hand out and placed it on her shaking shoulder to comfort her. That seemed right - that's what John would do. She gasped in pain and fear at the touch but didn't shrug him off this time. Instead she drew closer to him - almost as if to seek shelter in his tall frame now on his knees in front of her... hovering over her - but not close enough to touch. Almost as if she knew he would keep her safe but was scared to get too close to him because of what had just happened. She continued to weep.

'Oh, Molly. It will be okay. We'll sort this out.'

She looked up to him again. 'It was Jim. Well, not Jim himself, but his men. They... He...' she choked, 'Jim, Sherlock. Jim.' She shook her head and shuddered. Then she fell silent as tears welled in her eyes. A single tear escaped down her cheek as she curled back into her ball, tighter than before, throwing her arms over her face and around her head trying to block out the world.

Sherlock could do many things. He could diffuse a bomb, could tell paternity by the turn-ups on a pair of jeans, could catch a criminal by the type of cologne he wore, but never did he know what to do with a crying woman ... especially this hurt dove of a girl he knew was infatuated him and had experienced such terror and pain that night.

_'John... where are you...'_ He thought, rubbing his thumb in circles on her shoulder, as he continued to watch the alleyway for John, the one who would know what to do.


	4. Chapter 4

Author Note: Thanks to everyone who is following already and posted reviews. If you haven't already, please R&R.

This was a hard chapter to write...too many concerned citizens it seems have Molly lashing out like a wounded animal by the end. Please read it that way and not as it being terribly OOC.

Hope you enjoy...

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

Just then John came walking towards him.

'Sherlock - what's going on? You call me on my date and tell me an address and to come at once and that's it! What do you take me for?'

As he reached the scene, he registered what was going on and what - or rather whom - Sherlock was crouching next to.

'Molly?' He whispered, 'Sherlock, what's happened here? What's going on?'

Sherlock remained silent but Molly turned her head to look at him. Almost immediately he went into triage mode. He could see the bruising almost entirely encircling her neck. The bruises were so bad he suspected they would be able to get fingerprints from them. He was surprised she could even move her head let alone breath. He leaned closer to look at the wound on her forehead and pushed a wisp of her hair aside. She seized up at his touch but then turned her face a little more towards him knowing what he was doing. Blunt force trauma to her temple likely from the butt of a gun based on the size and pattern of the bruise he quickly deduced.

'John?' she said as she looked up to him with her eyes big and bright with fear.

'I'm here, Molly' He stared back at her with concern as he grazed his fingers across her temples and down her cheeks and to her jawbone checking for any broken bones.

'John - I tried calling but you weren't there. I don't want them to see me like this. I don't... I don't...' She faltered and bit her lip. Tears welling in her eyes.

'I know, honey... I know. But they are coming to help. It will be okay.'

He pulled put a pen light from his jacket pocket to check her pupils. As he leaned over her, she grabbed his hand.

'Don't leave me, okay? They might come back. Jim might come back. I am so scared that they might find me again...' she said with a shaky voice as she closed her eyes.

'I won't, Molly. I promise I won't leave you.' John said.

'We won't, Molly. We will keep you safe.' Sherlock echoed still holding his hand to her shoulder trying to comfort her with their presence as they saw Lestrade and an ambulance pull up at the entrance of the alley.

oOoOo

'Safe?! How the hell do we keep her safe from that maniac? Jesus, Sherlock. What the hell happened in that alley?' John yelled in the hospital corridor as he paced back and forth waiting to see if Molly was okay.

'John - It is obvious what happened. Any idiot could see from the scene what happened.' Sherlock said as he sat in a plastic visitor's chair with his hands steepled to his chin.

Stopping directly in front of him, John glared.

'Christ, man. She is our friend. She isn't some crime scene... She's ... She's Molly and right now she is lying in there scared shitless and for what? Because she dated the wrong man? Because he is some type of psycho who can't keep his head on straight?'

'I know...' Sherlock hissed, 'I know. I'm not a robot, John. Believe it or not, I am worried about her too. I saw the terror in her eyes. I saw the way she flinched when I tried to touch her. That damn cat!'

'What cat?'

'John!' He sighed and wiped his face with frustration. 'Obviously she saw a cat and that's why she was in the alley. Didn't you see the stray gray cat hairs on the cuffs of her jeans and on her wrist? We have see her often enough to know her cat is white, so there must have been a different cat that she followed. If she hadn't went down that alley to follow that cat, she wouldn't be an exam room right now!'

'Men!' a nurse shushed them as she approached pushing a battered and hollowed looking Molly in a wheelchair.

'Molly?' They said almost in unison.

'She'll be alright, dears. We're all done here for now. Molly, Sgt. Donovan will be by in a couple days to check on you and to take the rest of your statement. Okay?'

Molly didn't even look like she registered what the nurse said she seemed so deep in thought ... almost as if she was somewhere else...but the nurse took the silence as an agreement that that was fine.

'Why don't you two take her home and make sure she gets some tea and some rest. That's really what she needs right now. Once she feels up to it, have her call the number on the card I gave her.'

John looked down at the card held in Molly's hand. He could see that it is for a rape counselor. Their worst fears confirmed, or John's anyway - Sherlock looked as though he knew all along. They trailed behind the nurse as she pushed Molly to the door.

Sherlock stepped to the street and hailed a cab.

'I trust you will take care of her, Doctor? Please make sure she takes these pills and gets lots of rest.'

'Of course.' he said as the nurse handed him a prescription and patted Molly on the shoulder (not registering the pained look on Molly's face from the contact) before walking back inside.

Sherlock's cab pulled up and John knelt next to Molly capturing her eye. 'Hey, Molly. Hey. Can you walk or do you need me to ... help?'

She flinched as she realized that he was asking her if she needed him to lift her into the cab. She was so tired of people touching her and she knew it was just John...just John being who he was, the protector, the healer, the one who wanted to take up your burden for you if you couldn't but she just couldn't let him do this for her this time. She needed to do this on her own. She wasn't sure why... or why she had such a strong need at that moment to get away from everyone and go home to lick her wounds. They were just trying their best for her but maybe if she could just get home and get to bed, everyone would stop staring at her with pity and concern especially John and Sherlock...stop thinking about her as the damaged goods that she now knew she must be...stop wanting to touch her...comfort her... and just leave her be.

'Please don't. I can walk. Please just take me home.' She put her hands down on the chair's arms and pushed herself up to stand.

'Molly, you can't go home. Moriarty's men have your keys and your address. We need to make sure your are safe until those bastards are captured.'

She sighed with resignation and hobbled the few steps to the cab in obvious pain. 'Then take me someplace safe.' she said stumbling a little as she got in but then flinching as Sherlock reached out to catch her.

'I'm fine!' she said swatting him away frustratedly. 'Let's just go.'

'You're fine? Really?!' Sherlock said exasperatedly as his eyebrows shoot up. He looked to John for backup, but John just shook his head silently telling him to calm the hell down and let her be.

'Fine.' he said gritting his teeth as he got into the cab followed quickly by John. He turned to the cabbie and said '221B Baker Street and step on it.'


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who is reading. Here is a nice long chapter for everyone.

BTW...Sorry for all of the grammatical errors, which I am sure there are plenty. The English major in me is in tears in the corner. But, please know to me, commas are my Mycroft, my arch-nemesis. On the surface, friendly enough and just misunderstood, but deep down not above taking you into a dark alley and having the exclamation points beat you up. So I just use friendly periods, dashes and ellipses. They never have anyone beat up for lack of understanding. Thank goodness for that...

Thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy...

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

The ride home was the most uncomfortable ride ever for all of them that seemed to last forever. Sherlock and John obviously wanted to talk about what happened and what the next steps should be to track down the "low-lifes that did this" - as John put it anyway, but Molly just stared out the window nudging closer to the door each time she felt Sherlock move as he sat beside her. She said nothing, but John, sitting opposite of them both, would occasionally see a tear well up and lazily make its way down Molly's face. She made not attempt at swatting them away. In fact, all she did was continue to worry her fingers together and mutely stare at London as it passed by. She knew with every sign...every turn...every passing minute, her old life was vanishing away. Soon it would be "before" or "after" this..."incident", every time she tried to remember something. She sighed and closed her eyes no longer wanting to remember...no longer wanting to remember anything.

Upon arriving to the flat, John opened the front door to 221 and Sherlock bounded through and up the stairs ready to get on with this puzzle. John looked over his shoulder and watched Molly climb the few steps to the the door slowly and unsurely. He held out his hand to her but she grimaced and shook her head. Eventually, she made her way through and equally as slowly started up the steps to the men's flat.

As John climbed the stairs behind her, he could see the pain she felt in every step she took. The bruises were evident...Hell..even the cracked ribs were easy to spot, but it was the slight tilt of her head towards the pain...the pain she must have been feeling elsewhere from where those bastards touched her...no...tortured her... that grew more in focus for him as he stood behind her on the steps. He almost expected her to fall at any moment as she would suck in a breath with every step feeling the pain course through her. She faltered once and grabbed the banister with both hands. John was there immediately but she shook her head and pulled away sharply as his hands went to steady her. He could see that she wanted...needed to do this by herself and stepped back. She looked forward and continued the climb and finally made her way into the flat, but not before catching a glance back the way she had came and realizing how those 17 simple steps had felt like an eternity.

John followed her into the flat and suggested a spot of tea followed by bed. He immediately started to busy himself in the kitchen.

_'Bed? Where am I even going to sleep?'_ Molly thought as she glanced around the flat eventually spotting the sofa.

Almost reading her mind, Sherlock said 'I'm on a case. I will not be sleeping anytime soon. Molly - why don't you take my room?'

Without saying a word, she turned and looked down the hall. _'Sherlock's bed...'_ How many times had she thought about his bed. About lying there enveloped in his arms snuggling against his tall frame. _'This would...this would ruin it. This has ruined everything.'_

She sighed and turned towards the door instead and slowly headed up the second set of stairs. She had been here before and knew where John's room was. She knew he wouldn't mind. After all, he's a doctor... a friend ... one of the few people she trusted...he wouldn't mind if she stole his room just for a little bit. In no time flat, she would be at home away from all of this anyway and he could have his room back.

She entered his room and she could immediately see that everything had its place. There was no clutter. The bed was made with military precision. A dresser stood in the corner with a wood box with some sort of military design carved into the lid on top of it and some cologne sitting next to it. A desk sat in the other corner with a neat pile of files and a cup of pens. Everything was in order. Maybe if she stayed in here, all this order would rub off a little onto her life.

She slipped off the hospital-supplied slippers and climbed between the covers and curled yet again into fetal position. It made her feel so much more protected to have her knees against her chest and her arms around them. To her is made herself seem smaller and harder to grasp or see. She laid there like that for a while and stared numbly at the wall just willing sleep to come.

Of course John didn't mind that she took his room. He was a little surprised considering how in love with Sherlock she always seemed. He figured she would have found solace surrounded by the detective's things and his scent but he figured she must have thought his room was the safest room in the flat since it was the farthest from the door. As he peeked in on her and found her sleeping on her side, he realized he was just happy she was able to get to some sleep at all after the ordeal. Hell...she could sleep under the kitchen table if she wanted to as long as he knew she was safe and was able to rest.

John went downstairs and slumped into the couch. Sherlock sat in his chair plucking the strings of his violin obviously deep in thought. They sat there for hours - John eventually nodding off- until they heard it. A blood curdling scream that ripped down the stairs and through the flat. John and Sherlock ran up the stairs and to Molly's side. She was dreaming but otherwise okay.

'John!' She screamed 'John - help me! No, Jim. Please don't - Why!?'

'Molly... Molly, we're here. Molly, it's John and Sherlock. We're here. You're safe. It's just a dream.'

Her eyes rolled behind her eyelids and she involuntarily reached out her hand in her sleep.

'John? John - don't let them see me like this. Don't... Don't call him. He won't understand, John. He won't. You will but he won't...' she whimpered.

John kneeled next to the bed wanting so badly to wipe her tears away...to wrap her in his arms and save her from the men in her dream, but he knew he shouldn't touch her especially after what happened today. There was no way to predict how she would react if she woke up and he needed her to continue to trust him. Instead he whispered, 'Who won't, Molly?'

'Sherlock. He won't... He won't ever see me the same again. I'm just damaged goods now. No puzzle there.' she whispered another tear escaping down her cheek 'John - I hear them coming back. John... I'm so scared..." she whimpered again and then nothing. Her face went slack.

John gave Sherlock a look and took Molly's hand. He could see Sherlock wrestling with this. Usually a man supposedly without emotions, John knew his friend did have emotions but kept them locked neatly away. But to see this poor woman so pained at what he would think of her after all of this...to know deep down that was one of the things she truly worried about after all of the things that happened to her was even a little too much for Sherlock. The detective let out a shaky sigh, shook his head and left the room. If she didn't want him to see her like this, he would follow her wishes. Even he wasn't that heartless.

As Sherlock exited the room, John turned back to Molly. Her breath had started to even out and her eyes had stopped flickering behind her eyelids as she was pulled into a deep sleep thankfully without the nightmare. He stayed by her side for another fifteen minutes or so until he was sure she was okay and got up and left.

After closing the door as quietly as possible behind him, he walked down the stairs and saw Sherlock in his chair with his fingers steepled beneath his chin. John wanted to give him some space to think and walked into the kitchen thinking that some tea is what they really needed right now. It would make things start to seem all right when so many things were so very wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who is reading. Two chapters in one day... Wow! I must like you guys.

Sorry for more angst... but she did get brutally attacked and all. Hoping to throw in some humor to the next chapter, since, after this post, I have finally gotten to the part of the story that I did not pre-write.

Thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy and please do review.

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

Molly hadn't spoken for days. Sherlock and John have. Constantly it seemed...non-stop... almost as if they were trying to fill the silence or trying to chase any bad thoughts from her mind. They seemed unnerved by her just sitting on John's bed each day, curled into the corner against the wall and the headboard with a blanket around her shoulders and knees to her chest. She just stared into the distance...not making eye contact...not saying a word...not eating or drinking... just sitting. Occasionally, John or Sherlock would come sit by her or shove a cup of tea or water into her trembling hands but it was obvious to both of them she was in shock.

'John - She must be in shock. Look! She even has a blanket! You're the doctor. What do we do?'

John was unsure what to do next. Medically, they had done what they could, but he wasn't a psychiatrist. Sure he had seen people in shock before...he was in Afghanistan after all but this seemed different. He really believed she just needed some rest and some time to process this. She wasn't without thought. She would still get up when she needed the bathroom and occasionally she would take a drink from the the many cups he had balanced in her hands. She just seemed to be numb... almost blocking everyone and everything out, like she knew she was safe in her mind and didn't want to leave it if she didn't need to.

'Let's just let her rest, Sherlock. That's all we can do.'

But even that didn't seem to come easily for Molly. She seemed scared to sleep...scared to close her eyes and leave herself defenseless not only to the world around her but to the demons who hid behind her eyelids. She knew John and Sherlock would keep her safe but they couldn't fight off the men for her in her dreams. But, eventually, her eyes started to droop and her head started to nod. Each time she started to nod off, she would pull her head back up quickly and shake it trying to ward off the sandman, but soon sleep overtook her.

ooOOooOOoo

A scream swept through the apartment again. Sherlock and John looked at each other and ran up the stairs again toward the bedroom.

Upon entering, they could see Molly pinned down to the bed by her own mind. She was screaming 'No - Don't - No - Please...' Sherlock stood at the foot of the bed watching but John rushed to her side and knelt on the floor next to her. She seemed to be reliving the attack, which was apparent not only from her screams but by the grimace on her face, her hands swatting away the imaginary monsters and then going up around her neck straining to breath.

'Molly, wake up.' John said as he reached to capture her hands away from her already bruised neck. 'Molls...it's John. It's okay. Wake up.'

Hearing his voice, she turned her head but remained asleep.

'John. Save me. John - you have to help me.'

'Molly. It's me. Wake Up. You're having a dream. You're safe. We're here. It's all over. Just wake up.'

She woke with a start and saw John staring at her. She looked around as if trying to figure out where she was and it all came back.

'John? Oh my...' She whispered in a ragged voice. She put her shaky hand to her mouth and tears began to fall along the salty paths that already streaked her face. She trembled uncontrollably and John, whose heart broke to see her like this, reached out to bring her into a hug. She shrunk away quickly and butted up against the wall the bed was shoved against.

'No...' she pained...scared to be touched.

But this is John. She thought. He was her one call. John is safe, right? John wasn't like those men...John was just John...so patient...a friend...someone she could trust...touch...allow to help her.

John sat back on his heels and stared at her. She was obviously warring with herself as much as he was warring with himself. He wanted to comfort her, hold her and help her. He wanted to know she was safe but he understood her sudden fear to be touched. He would let her come to him or more likely Sherlock, the one she really cared for. He glanced at the man at the end of the bed and then back to her.

She looked like she had come to a resolution and crawled across the bed. She swung her legs off the bed and slipped down to the ground and sat on her heels in front of John. She reached out a hand and grabbed his...His strong callused hand which she knew could protect her as he had his fellow soldiers overseas but could heal her as he did everyday at his job.

'John. I trust you. You see me. You'll protect me...right?'

'Of course, I will, Molls.' John said to her almost in a whisper as he brought his other hand to her cheek.

She looked like she might pull back back from his touch but instead she closed her eyes and leaned against it. Then, she leaned forward and buried herself into his chest. She threw her arms around his waist...shaking and trembling while she clung to him as if he were a life raft.

'Of course I will.' he whispered to her putting his arms around her.

He looked Sherlock's way. Molly turned her gaze too and saw Sherlock at the corner of the bed staring at her. She trembled more as those piercing blue eyes bore into her trying to figure her out and figure out what to say. Obviously concerned, he seemed uncertain what to do.

She turned back to John and buried her head back into his chest blocking out the world. At which point, Sherlock walked out. He didn't necessarily feel like a third wheel but he felt John had this under control and he could tell Molly was still scared...even of him. But why? He was the one that found her...He was the one that saved her...not John. John didn't even answer his phone when she called...he did. Why was he not the one she trusted?

ooOOooOOoo

John came downstairs about half an hour later.

'She is finally asleep.' He announced.

'Did she say anything else?' Sherlock asked.

'No. I just held her while she cried for a little while and then she crawled back into bed, turned away from me and essentially willed the world away and herself to sleep.'

'Do you think she will have another nightmare tonight?'

'No. I think she is too exhausted to dream again.'

'Good.'

'Good? Well.. yes, good. But why do you say it like that?'

'Oh, John. Do keep up.'

'Mrs. Hudson!' Sherlock yelled down the stairs.

'Damn it, Sherlock. You'l wake her.'

'Sherlock, Dear... What is it? What was all that screaming?' Mrs. Hudson said as she entered the flat.

'Mrs. Hudson. You're finally back from your trip. You're sister's I would suspect.'

She nodded. She looked to John for guidance, who just shrugged, and then back to the detective.

'It's Molly. She has been hurt and is upstairs asleep. John and I must go out now. Can you stay here in case she wakes?'

'We're going out?'

'Yes!' Sherlock turned to the older woman with his eyebrows raise awaiting an answer 'Mrs. Hudson?'

'Well... of course, Dear. Of course. The poor girl. Will she be okay?'

'Yes, but I don't want her to wake with no one here.'

'Of course. Off you two go then and I will as they say 'hold down the fort.'

'John' Sherlock said impatiently as he grabbed his coat and scarf.

'Right.' John said looking around and grabbing his outwear 'Right.'

ooOOooOOoo

It wasn't until they were in the cab that John said 'So where exactly are we going?'

'Molly's'

'Molly's?'

'Yes - her flat, John. We need to see if there are any clues to lead us to the men who did this or even more so Moriarty himself.'

'Right. You know they only went on three dates, Sherlock. It's not like they were living together and all his stuff will be there. In fact, it's very unlikely anything of his will be there at all.'

'You never know, John. You never know.'


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note:Thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy and please do review. I love hearing what you guys think.

Finally, I've gotten to a little crime solving. Please forgive me for anything that doesn't make complete sense. I learned all of my police tactics from L&O: SVU and NCIS.

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

The cab pulled up to Molly's building and the men jumped out with John shoving some money towards the cabbie. They strode up to the front door noting that no one's lights were on in the other flats but also noting that the front door was slightly ajar. This sent the men into high alert.

As they quickly climbed the stairs to Molly's apartment, John drew his gun out from his waistband. He silently thanked the heavens above that he had the mind to bring it along. Sherlock reached the door first and turned around and glared at John as he made a barely audible scuffing noise against the wall as he crept up the final stair.

'John - the door...it's open as well.' Sherlock whispered.

'Careful!' John whispered back as Sherlock very gently pushed the door open.

Neither was sure what exactly they had expected but this wasn't it. They had expected men hiding behind the door or the place to be torn to pieces but instead all that seemed out of place was Molly's purse and keys on the table and a large vase of roses with a note.

John crept past Sherlock, who had stopped to read the note, to check the other rooms for intruders.

'All clear' John said as he walked out to the living room, flipping the safety on the gun and slipping it back into the back of his jeans.

'Anything disturbed?'

'Nope. Nothing...not even a drawer pulled out or a piece of paper on the floor.'

'That's what I concluded as well based on the dust in this area and around the books on the end table there. Nothing had been moved at all since Molly last left the flat, which means they weren't looking for anything.'

'Right. Well...' John said looking around the flat as he came down off his adrenaline high 'I guess we should take care of a few things while we are here.'

'Like what?'

'Well, for one we should grab her some clothes. She has been wearing the same thing for the last three days. Two, we should also feed her cat.' John said pointing to the bowls at the end of the kitchen island.

'Right... of course. She would have our hide if anything happened to that cat.'

'Agreed. Why don't you go put some clothes together for her and I will see if I can find some cat food.'

Sherlock walked into Molly's bedroom. It smelled of her perfume and he could see pictures lining the top of her dresser of her smiling with her brothers and her father. There were assorted knick knacks on the dresser and bedside table as well as a stuffed teddy bear, whose fur was worn thin obviously from her childhood, plunked in the middle of her made bed.

He walked to the closet and found a duffle bag at the bottom. He put it on the bed and turned to the dresser. She may not have had a sock index but at least she was tidy and everything was folded neatly and in drawers. He thumbed through her pajamas and workout clothes unsure what to to pick. But eventually his eyes focused and realized some clothes were worn much more often than others. These must be her favorites, pulling out some gray sweatpants and a overly large sweatshirt. He also grabbed a couple of more pairs of joggers, a pair of jeans and some t-shirts. How many t-shirts did she have with cats on them - Good lord. He shoved all of that into the bag. He went back to the closet and pulled down the cardigans that she wore the most. He went into the connected bath and grabbed her toothbrush and deodorant. 'She probably will want these, too' he thought.

'Almost done... now what am I forgetting... underthings...' he blushed slightly as a thought of Molly in her underwear popped into his head. He wiped it away and shook off the blush - he was merely trying to construct an image of her in his head to make sure he had everything she needed that she would wear - or at least that was what he told himself.

He went back to the dresser and opened the top drawer. It was filled almost completely with silk and lace. Women usually have some sort of extravagance in their life. For some it was the house they lived in or the car they drove, but it seemed for Molly, it was some store called La Perla based on the tags. He started pulling out garments. Sherlock sighed... how did he know what to pick. He then heard John chuckle from the doorway.

'What!?'

'Oh, just the look on your face. I have seen you face down criminal masterminds without a blink but put you in charge of picking out a girl's underwear and you are befuddled.'

'John - I don't get befuddled.'

'Based on the look of your face right now...Yes - yes, you do.'

'Fine - then you figure this out.' Sherlock said throwing the bits of lace back into the drawer.

'Oh, young Jedi... You have so much to learn.' John said with a sly smile. 'This top drawer for most girls are where they keep the really sexy things. The bits of lace and silk that make them feel ... well... sexy. If we go to the next drawer maybe we can find something that might be a little more Molly.' He opened the drawer underneath and it was filled with socks on one side and cotton panties and bras on the other. 'See. Now usually the things on the top are one's favorites since they are last washed. Let's take these and these' John said grabbing a handful of underwear and a few bras. 'Also grab some of those' pointing to the socks.

Sherlock just watched in awe as John stuffed everything into the bag and walked out the door with it. This man apparently knew his way around a woman's bedroom. Maybe it was that charm that had Molly seeking him out instad of Sherlock. No, it couldn't be just that. Sure - John was charming - polite - nice - respectful - a bit too self-deprecating for Sherlock's tastes - all traits Sherlock realized quickly he himself never seemed to have around her but ... but could that really be it? Really?

He watched as John pulled back the top of a can of cat food and started to put it into a bowl. Was it his looks? Sure - John was attractive in a rough and tumble 'I will pick up the milk on the way home, Honey' kind of way - even he could admit that. But would Molly suddenly be attracted to someone so safe and so in love with sweaters after being so infatuated with him and Jim for so long - both dark and mischievous? Maybe...

John put the bowl on the floor and Sherlock saw a streak of white fur run toward the kitchen. Toby. John scratched the cat behind the ears and looked up at Sherlock smiling. It was his eyes, wasn't it? People had told Sherlock in the past that his eyes seem to pierce into their soul. Sure... they intimidate but that's because they observe, he thought. But John's eyes were different. Soft...kind...showing every emotion and thought he had. It must be the eyes.

'Sherlock!' John said pulling Sherlock out of his thoughts. 'Did you hear that?'

'What?'

Just then they heard the sound of glass breaking.

John checked out the window and for the first time noticed a small greenhouse attached to the side of the building. As he looked, two lights seemed to float around within it ... as if someone was searching for something.

'There seems to be someone down there.'

Sherlock was next to him in seconds. He looked down and said as he turned and rushed towards the door. 'John - call Lestrade. It looks like Moriarty's men are still here.'

ooOOoo

Within minutes, both men stood outside the small greenhouse preparing themselves for what lay within the small room. John had his gun out again and stood directly behind Sherlock, who was peeking into a window.

'Joe, Moriarty said it would be here. Where the hell did that little bitch hide it?'

Sherlock stiffened at the insult but John put his hand on his shoulder to calm him.

'It's over here, Mick. I've found it. You go find the other plant and I will take care of this one.'

Mick audibly grunted and Sherlock watched as he crossed the small room to a table filled with potted plants.

Sherlock turned his head, locked eyes with John and nodded as he slowly and silently swung the door open.

'DOWN ON THE GROUND!' John yelled with his most authoritative voice as he ran in with his gun extended.

Both men turned around stunned. Joe then snorted and yelled 'Mick, take care of them!'

John turned to the man who must of been Mick since he was now rushing towards him fists held up. John's adam's apple bobbed. This man was huge. He had at least a foot on him height-wise, was almost pure muscle, and, of course, he was coming straight at him.

"Stop or I'll shoot!'

Mick roared and pulled his fist back to swing it. But, then there was the sound of terra cotta cracking, and Mick slumped to the ground. As Mick fell, John saw Sherlock behind him dropping what was left of the large pot he had just swung and dusting off his hands.

John swung around quickly to face the other man, Joe, but he was gone. In all that commotion, neither Sherlock or John had seen him slip through a back window on the opposite end of the room.

'Damn!'

Just then, sirens began to wail down the street and Lestrade bounded through the door.

'You're late.' Sherlock said to him not bothering to make eye contact as he looked at the man he had just hit with an insanely heavy potted plant.

'I'm not late. I had my best men on it.' He quipped back. He looked around quickly taking in the scene and said 'Okay, what have we got?'

'Two men working for Moriarty, Joe and Mick. After something in here. This is Mick.' Sherlock said kicking him to point him out to Lestrade.

'Jesus, John. Did you shoot him?' Lestrade said eyeing the gun still in John's hand.

'No...Sherlock hit him over the head with a pot.' John said as he stuffed the gun in his jacket pocket. He turned to Sherlock . 'What plant do you think he was after?'

'Isn't it obvious, John? This one.' he said pointing to what appeared to be a twig with what appeared to be a bandage around it sitting in an ornate, purple pot. 'You can see on the table that this is the only one that had been moved.'

'How?'

'The water rings. See here... you can see the water ring under the edge of this one but none of the others meaning he had just moved it before we came in.'

'And the other man?' Lestrade queried looking to his notepad 'Joe?'

'Obviously gone but it appears he has taken something with him. Hmm...that's an interesting one.' Sherlock said as he walked over to the plant that Joe had been at. It appeared to be a rose bush and it appeared that some of the smaller branches had been trimmed off. Sherlock saw the glint of something metal under the bush. He bent down and saw a pair of pruners. He stood back up and reached his hand out and ghosted his fingers over the grooves where the branches were missing. Almost all of the scars were wet with sap but one wasn't. Each was in the shape of a 'V'. He turned back to the two men. 'See here. Five cuts were taken from this rose bush. One is a few weeks old by the looks of it but these four are from tonight. The questions is why break into a greenhouse and steal branches off a plant?'

'Well, I know one person who will have the answer.' Lestrade said looking down at the man on the floor. "Donovan - Have the guys take this one down to the yard. Anderson - get your team in here and see if we can find some prints.'

'You'll want to check Molly's flat as well.' John said.

'Molly's flat?'

'Yes - This is her greenhouse, based on the handwriting on these tags on the plants and it would appear the men had been up there first before coming down here.'

Lestrade's eyebrows went up and he pulled out his walkie and spoke into it quickly. He then turned to John and Sherlock. 'Let's go.'

All three men headed up the stairs and into Molly's apartment. A few policemen were already in there dusting for prints.

'We haven't been idle, you know. We have already checked this place out for signs of a break in. The only things out of place are here on the table.' Sherlock said as he walked over to the table and pointed. 'Molly's purse and keys: both of which were stolen at the time of her rape.'

John and Lestrade both cringed at the word but Sherlock continued.

'And this vase of flowers and a note. The vase - obviously from a florist - with black roses - eighteen of them - fresh from today from the looks of them. The note - it appears is from Moriarty by the signature "JM" - simply says 'I'll see you soon.'

'Jesus' John exhales scrubbing his face with his hand ' Can you imagine if Molly had found this instead of us? She probably would have been hysterical.'

'How is she?' Lestrade said quietly putting his hands in his pockets and leaning back a little.

'She's in shock but she's healing. The bump on her head is coming along nicely...shouldn't be too much of a scar. I think it is the bruises that are the most startlingly but that just means...like I said...she's healing. She'll be okay. She just needs some rest and our support. I think maybe catching the guys who did this to her might help too. And I think we caught at least one of them today.'

Lestrade nodded. He then shook his head as he thought about Molly and walked to go to talk to one of the policemen who was photographing the flowers.

John picked up the duffle sitting next to the door and turned to Sherlock and said 'Come on. Let's go home to our girl.'

They both gave Lestrade a nod as they exited and went down the stairs to catch a cab.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy and please do review. I love hearing what you guys think.

Again - sorry if you feel Sherlock is ooc but I think he would have been like this.

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC, and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

Sherlock and John trudged up the stairs and through the door into their flat. There they saw their landlady finishing up some tea in the kitchen.

'Oh, Sherlock and John - Just in time for tea.' She turned and John could see the concern flooded over her face. She started to worry her fingers and gestured towards the bathroom. 'Molly's just just woken up and I have convinced her to take a shower. All that grime and her hair and those bruises...' She shook her head remembering the purple and green bruises around Molly's throat 'You know ... oh... well.. I'm going to leave you to it. Sherlock, you be good to that girl, you hear?'

'I'm always good to her, Mrs. Hudson.'

Mrs. Hudson and John exchanged a look, which did not go unnoticed by the detective.

'Of course, Mrs. Hudson. I do know how to be good to her. I promise... I will.'

'Good. Good. You boys need anything else, you just let me know.' She escapes downstairs

'Of course I'll be good to her.' Sherlock muttered to himself as he picked up his violin.

John shook his head smirking at what Sherlock was probably trying to calculate right then. Probably, what exactly being good to someone meant. He shook his head again and took a sip of tea and started to head upstairs with Molly's duffle bag. As he walked by the hallway leading to the bathroom, he heard a gasp.

'Everything okay in there, Molly?' He asked while he knocked on the door. He waited for an answer but only heard silence and then the shower turn on.

'She's fine' He thought to himself as he head upstairs 'A shower will be good for her.'

ooOOooOOoo

Molly, in the meantime, was still working off her clothes. The mere sight of her face in the bathroom mirror had given her a start, which of course John had heard.

'Everything okay in there, Molly?'

She heard him at the door - his breath and the slight shuffle of his feet. She turned the shower on in response and continued to look at herself in the mirror. She stared at her bloodshot eyes with dark circles that had formed under them from all the crying and late nights. She studied the huge bruise at her temple where her assailant had hit her with his gun. She drew her finger across the stitches. Four? No...six... sewn in a neat row, which she was sure would leave a scar.

She started to take off her shirt and her eyes grew large at the sight of the bruises that encircled her neck. She put her hand to them. Oh...how they hurt. Her hand slid down her abdomen and she shuck her pants and socks. She climbed into the shower - half hoping that the spray would wash the bruises that riddled her body away.

She could feel her muscles ache as she massaged shampoo through her hair. God, it smelled like Sherlock. Why did he have to see her like that...huddled in a ball in an alley. It had gotten to a point where he actually had started to see her a just a little more clearly. Sure, he still used her when he wanted access to the morgue or her lab, but he was a little nicer about it and that kiss at Christmas. Chaste but it had meant the world to her. She raised her hand to her cheek and started to cry. She tried to shake it off. She was so tired of crying. She needed to keep her stiff upper lip and focus on the task on hand.

She grabbed for the bar of soap and ran it down her abdomen. She could feel the contusions that riddled her stomach and the aches and pains deep inside. Damage to internal organs likely from the assailant's fist, she diagnosed quickly. God, she be so clinical about this. How could she do that to herself...something she did in the morgue.

The soap continued down around her side and to her back. Again, she felt bruises everywhere and pain in her kidneys. She started to shake. Water streamed down her back as she turned to face the tiled wall for support as she started to sob. She could have died she realized. Bruising like this she had seen before at work. She slipped down to the tub, not caring about the bottles that came with her, and put her head on her knees. Sobs racked her body.

_'How will I come back from this?'_ ran through her mind _'How will I be able to work knowing that it could have been me on that slab and all her friends and colleagues know the same thing. How?'_

'Molly!' She heard from the door followed by frantic knocking 'Are you okay? Molls?'

She shook her head at John's voice. Good old John...even he looked at her differently ... as did Sherlock...with pity. Another sob shook through her small body. Pity? Maybe not...maybe just concern. They saved her after all. But still why did she have to be so stupid and need to be saved?

ooOOooOOoo

'Molly! Are you okay? Molls?' John continued to knock. He could hear the shower running and her sobbing but it was the sound of bottles falling that had him concerned that she had fallen.

'Molly! Molly, I'm going to come in unless you respond.' He waited but nothing.

'Molly' He said as he opened the door and found her huddled in fetal position on the floor of the shower shaking and sobbing uncontrollably.

'Are you hurt? Did you fall?' He asked as he rushed to her.

As he drew closer, he saw the bruises everywhere. The dark purple and green shading along her back where someone had beat her with his fists...along her side where they had kicked her when she was down ... smaller ones like fingerprints along her hips and thighs.

'No' she faintly said between sobs.

He reached for the towel on the bar and went into the tub crouching next to her. He bundled her up into it and reached over and turned off the spray. Now himself drenched to the bone, he turned to her. He looked to her eyes, which were clenched closed as tears streamed from them. He slid a crooked finger down her cheek, wiping some of the tears away. He didn't know how to help her with this...how to save her from what had already been done.

He turned her chin up and said 'Molly, look at me.' She opened her eyes, which were red from crying and filled with pain and fear but glimmer - just a sliver - of hope that he would save her from this 'Molly - are you okay? Did you fall? Have you hurt yourself?'

She nodded and whispered 'I'm okay' with her lower lip trembling. John felt her body shivering.

'Okay then. Come on up. Let's get you upstairs then.'

They both stood, John's arm around Molly's bare shoulder holding her up, and turned towards the door and Sherlock at it. His eyes were wide as he took in everything that just had happened. From every bruise he had seen, he could deduce exactly what happened that night. His fists were clenched at his side.

'Sherlock. Grab a robe. Sherlock' John said taking charge of the situation and shaking Sherlock from his state with the tone of his voice.

'Yes... of course.' He went into his room for a second and came out with his blue dressing gown, which he handed to John.

'Here, Molly. Let's put this on, okay?'

He wrapped it around her shoulders as she continued to clutch the wet towel to her slender frame and watch Sherlock with wide eyes. She followed John down the hall and allowed him to pull her up the stairs.

'Sherlock - bring up some of that tea, will you?' John said behind him to the silent man towering at the bottom of the stairs obviously unsure with what to do.

'Yes - Yes, of course.'

'Here...you sit here.' John said to her as he placed Molly on the edge of the bed. He turned to the duffle bag on the desk and pulled out some clothes for her to change into. He turned with the pile to give them to Molly and found her with her knees pulled up to her chin.

'It could have been worse, right, John? I could have been a corpse on a slab that Sherlock was taking his riding crop to...'

'Molly, I would never do that to you' Sherlock said as he entered the room. He knelt in front of her and took her hands 'You know know that. Don't you?'

'I know...I know but maybe it would have been better... maybe it would have been better to have been left whole like that than to be turned to pieces like this...' she whispered he voice cracking at the end.

'No, Molly. No. That's not true.' John said shaking his head as he sat next to her on the bed and slipped his arm around her shoulder 'You'll make it through this. You'll see. We'll help you make it through this.'

She looked deep into his eyes - blue with a golden circle around the center. She could tell he believed every word that he said. She turned to Sherlock looking up to her with his intense blue eyes.

'He's right, you know, Molly. It will get better. We just have to let these bruises have time to heal.'

She leaned into John and nodded. 'Yes...that's right. They heal.' She closed her eyes and felt sleep drawing her in 'Not something I ever see at the morgue.'

After a few minutes, her breath slowed and steadied...exhaustion from the ordeal having taken over. John and Sherlock looked at each other and then moved to tuck her in. She whimpered in her sleep and grabbed John's hand as he brought the blanket to her chin

'Don't leave. Please stay with me.' She said slowly.

John cleared his throat and shook his head 'Molly, Sweetheart, you need to rest.'

'I know...but you make me feel safe. Please...I don't want to be alone.'

John looked up to Sherlock questioningly and Sherlock gave him a quick nod.

'Okay' He whispered, toeing off his shoes and climbing into the bed beside her. 'Move over.'

Sherlock turned off the lights and closed the door silently behind him.

John turned onto his side and propped his head up on the heel of his hand and just watched her.

'Thank you for staying.' She whispered, still clasping his free hand, drifting back to sleep. 'Thank you.'

ooOOooOOoo

When she woke the next morning, she laid there for a minute before opening her eyes. She heard him breathing next to her and his hand was still in hers but it felt different. Not the callused fingers of the army doctor but the long elegant fingers of the violinist.

'Oh' She gasped as she let go and brought her hand to her mouth. She opened her eyes and found Sherlock laying on his side next to her watching her with his intense stare.

'John had to go to work. You were so peaceful... I thought it would be best if I took his place rather than you have to wake alone.'

'Oh...mmm...Okay.' She whispered.

'Molly, can I ask you something?' He asked propping his head up with his hand. 'Why do you trust John so much more than me? We have known each other for so much longer and we both know about your...erm... feelings for me. Yet, he was the one you called. He was the one you sought comfort from...the one you spoke to...the one you turned to. But I found you...I saved you. Why would you have allowed him to see you like that but didn't want me to?'

'Oh, Sherlock.' She said as she reached her hand to cup his cheek. 'I've always wanted you. But John... He's... John's a doctor... not just that. John's the heart and you're the brain. You deduce people for a living but he... he fixes them. He wouldn't have know how many beers I had had and told me that I shouldn't have been out there that night and made me believe it was my fault. He wouldn't have judged my bad decisions and what trouble I got myself into. He would have just helped.'

'I would have too, Molly. I'm new to this having friends but I believe that's what they do...help.'

'Oh, Sherlock.' She whispered as she curled into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. 'I was so scared that you would look at me differently. Not that you ever look, but if you did, I was scared you would see damaged goods. I couldn't stand that you might see me like that...'

'Never!' He said feeling something he had rarely felt - his heart swell in his chest 'Never!'


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this new installment. Please do review if you can. I love hearing what you guys think.**

**Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC, and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.**

* * *

Molly woke up a few hours later from the most fantastic dream. She had dreamt that her, John, and Sherlock were lying in a field cloud watching. Her hand grazed the green grass, which smelled so sweet, and picked some daisies within reach. She turned her head and saw Sherlock looking up at the sky trying to see the shapes Molly and John kept pointing out. He put his arms across his chest and exasperatedly huffed and then said 'It's just water vapor any way…Does it matter if it looks like a rabbit or a bear?' Molly looked at John and saw the crinkles around his eyes as he laughed. She laughed aloud as well and woke herself up by laughing.

_'Such a good dream'_ she thought to herself as she kept her eyes closed. She started to stretch her arms over her head and thought about how she needed to get up to make some coffee and feed Toby.

'Toby!'

She bolted upright – instantly regretting it as all the bruises in her abdomen seized up. 'Oh!' She pulled her left arm around her waist and put her right hand to her eyes as she was quickly pulled back into the reality of her situation.

'Usually when people scream someone's name in that bed it's not their cat's' John smirked from the chair at the desk turning away from his computer and some files. Upon seeing her face though, he crossed the room to sit next to her and said 'Oh… Molls, its okay.'

"How could it be okay? How could I forget about him? He's the only one that loves me and he depends on me. And I didn't think about him at all.' She mulled out loud. 'He's probably starved to death by now.'

'It's okay. We found him yesterday when we got your clothes. Remember, when we went out yesterday. He really liked Sherlock, twisted right through his legs. His suit came back covered in white cat hair, which according to Sherlock will never come out.'

That made Molly smile a bit thinking about Toby wrapping his legs around the one man in the room she knew would hate it.

'See…its okay.' John said seeing an in. 'How about we get up and change into some fresh clothes and then get some tea?'

'Okay' Molly said softly, willing herself to do what he had suggested.

'Okay. I'll leave you to it then. All your clothes are in the duffel on the desk. I'll go put the kettle on.'

John walked out the door and Molly lay there until she heard the latch close. She meekly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stripped off Sherlock's robe. Oh God – is this all she has been wearing the entire time. She shook her head as she stood and walked over to the desk. Luckily, there was underwear and a bra in the bag, which she quickly put on. She rummaged through the rest of the clothes and found her favorite jeans and sweatshirt. Sherlock must have packed this and figured out those were her favorite. They looked well-worn but Molly preferred to think they were well-loved. She put the jeans down on the table and put on her sweatshirt. It smelled like home and quiet and a little bit of peace.

She reached for her jeans next and accidentally knocked the file John had been looking through onto the floor. Of course, the pictures in the file fell out and scattered across the floor. Molly sunk to the ground, wincing a little as she did, and started to pick up the pictures. She started a pile and started to look at them to see if they were numbered in a certain order. Quickly, she realized what these pictures were of. This was her file. These were pictures of her. She started to tremble. Pictures of the bruises she saw last night in the mirror. Pictures of the markings she could feel on her back…on her thighs … the back of her head…things she could feel but couldn't see.

She picked up the file and started looking through it. It not only had contained the pictures but also witness statements from John and Sherlock and John's notes from the alley. As she stared at these pages…at the pictures…she was suddenly pulled forward from the grief at seeing her body so bruised and damaged and into terror as her eyes rested on one picture. It had obviously been taken at her flat and was of an arrangement of black roses. Below it was a note that was propped open saying 'I'll be seeing you – JM'

Molly screamed and scampered into the corner. She screamed again and again…each one louder than the one before. She clamped her hands to her ears and her eyes shut trying with all of her might and will to remove that image from her mind.

'I'll be seeing you.' She thought over and over again.

'No! No, you won't. No, you won't. No.' she said over and over again, bringing her knees up to her chest to shield her and putting her forehead forward until it touched them. She shook her head and continued to say 'no' as she rocked back and forth.

'Molly!' John yelled barging through the door and rushing to her side.

'Molly?' Sherlock whispered to her as he crouched beside her as well.

She continued to rock back and forth in the same manner shielding her face and muttering 'no' over and over again…not even registering John's strong arms as they wrapped around her to stop her rocking.

'John?' Sherlock said, 'John – what do we do? What happened?'

'I don't know. She was doing so well. She woke up laughing…smiling even. She was just going to get dressed and come downstairs for some tea.' He looked wildly around the room for the catalyst that had set her off – the thorn that had pricked her.

Both his and Sherlock's eyes rested on the picture at the same time and they knew. Jim Moriarty. His flowers still did the trick even though it was just a picture.

They turned back to Molly, who was still in her trance.

'Molly. You're safe. You are here with me and John. He will NOT be seeing you anytime soon. We are going to protect you, Molly. We promised you that…remember? We are going to help you.' Sherlock whispered to her.

He leaned over and grabbed her face between his palms. 'But, Molly...' .' He said as he raised her face, made eye contact with her, and raised both his eyebrows. 'Molly. You can't slip away from us, okay? Stay with us…here. Do you hear me? I understand you're scared but he is the one who should be scared Molly. Not you…him. Don't let him have that power over you. Don't just give up and crawl into a cave. Don't just give up. Come back to us and let's make it through this together. Okay? We can make it through this together.'

Molly's eyes grew wide as he spoke. So did John's. He had never seen this side of Sherlock before. His grip on her slackened as she stopped rocking back and forth - entranced now by the blue eyes that stared into hers - and he moved his hand to her back and started to smooth a circle into her shoulder.

She blinked and her eyes focused on the man speaking to her. She looked up to him like he was a harbor in the storm that was passing through her mind. Suddenly she threw herself forward and her arms around his neck. Sherlock gasped at the force but hesitantly put his arms around her back. He didn't hug a lot of people and usually those he did had a few more clothes on.

"Oh God. I am so scared. I am so afraid of him, Sherlock. I just want this to be over. I just want to be normal again. I want to be strong and safe and sound. When will this be over?'

John's heart broke as he watched this little snippet of a woman cling to Sherlock for dear life – trembling uncontrollably even with Sherlock's arms around her. He leaned forward and gathered them both into his arms. She looked up at him and grabbed his hand which was around Sherlock's back. John squeezed back trying to reassure her.

They all stayed there for a little while and slowly she stopped trembling and calmed down. John leaned back onto his heels. Then, she leaned back out of the Sherlock's arms and slumped against the wall… looking exhausted from what had just taken place.

John stood and reached his hand down to her. 'Come on, Molly. Let's get you back into bed, huh?'

She sighed, closed her eyes for a moment building up the strength to get up and gave John her hand. He pulled her up and placed her on the side of the bed. She snuggled under the covers as Sherlock gathered the file and pictures from the floor (yes! Sherlock! – John was surprised too) and John sat on the edge of the bed next to her. He pushed some hair from her face and grazed his thumb against her cheek and a few stray tears that hadn't yet dried. "Honey – we are going to let you sleep okay. You come downstairs when you're ready for that cuppa though. We are going to get this all sorted – you'll see.'

Molly nodded her head and closed her eyes, slowly drifting back to sleep…whishing she was back in the field with daisies as she heard the door click.

* * *

**A/N: Poor Molly. She is going to make it through this... you'll see. I promise next time she will actually make it down the stairs and crying will be to a minimum. I just had to write this scene first... Keep an eye out this week for the next chapter.**


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this new installment. Please do review if you can. I love hearing what you guys think.

To be honest, I am a little worried about this chapter but hopefully you all will love it as much as me. :)

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC, and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

The next morning, Molly walked downstairs for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. She actually cleaned up a little this morning and put on the jeans and one of the kitty t-shirts with a cute cardigan overtop that the guys had picked up for her. She wasn't quite 100% better but clean clothes and a fresh day helped her feel half human at least. She was absolutely starving…she couldn't remember the last time she ate more than tea and toast and felt a little like a tool after last night. She didn't want to make the guys bring anything up for her, though she knew John would have in a heartbeat... He was just that kind of guy.

She stopped on the second to the last step to brace herself. She was nervous for some reason. They had seen her at her absolutely worse... there was no reason to worry but perhaps that's why she did. It might have been not only the awkward morning after your complete breakdown moments she was trying to put off but also perhaps the fact that she had had a strange dream about John after they were able to calm her down. She couldn't remember exactly happened in the dream but she woke up blushing and her heart racing. Geez… she apparently had read too many romance novels with doctors as the heroes… Maybe it was the dream that compelled her to go downstairs … maybe I am seeking him out unconsciously she thought to herself. No... she thought as she shook her head…I'm just hungry. She walked down the final two steps and into the living room.

'Oh' Molly gasped putting her hand over her heart and blushing a deep red finding John there in bathrobe reading his morning paper.

'Good Morning' he said looking up. He beamed up at her a smile so easy and his eyes crinkled a little at the corner with laugh lines. God, how on earth had she never noticed how attractive he was before all this?

'Morning'

He put down his newspaper, stood up and walked into the kitchen with Molly trailing behind. 'Do you want some tea or coffee or some breakfast?' He smiled again at her seeing she had followed him into the room. He opened the fridge and started rummaging through it. 'I think I have some eggs in here somewhere. Sherlock! What's this?! Why are there ears in my good Tupperware?!'

Sherlock came out from his room, shrugged his shoulders and walked over to his desk turning on John's computer.

'Oh! That man!' John said exasperatedly.

Molly giggled, but then caught herself, putting a hand over her mouth. She hadn't laughed (at least consciously) since that night. Damn it! She had promised herself she would go at least an hour without thinking about it. She sat down at one of the stools, shook her head a little as she bowed it and held her lips shut with her teeth. Her lip trembled a bit and she looked down at her hands…just staring at them willing away her thoughts.

John walked over to her and put his finger under her chin tilting her face up. He looked into her eyes and said 'You know it's okay to laugh, Molly. I know these past few days have been rough but it's okay to be okay. Plus living with this bullhead' he jerked his thumb at Sherlock 'You have to laugh, otherwise... who knows what will happen.'

Sherlock acknowledged his comment with a glare and a huff but Molly looked back at him with large dow-eyes – still silent. Her lip trembled again and she immediately bit it again. She nodded at him and grabbed him around his waist, looking for an anchor in the reeling of her feelings. She could hear him chuckle a little and his heart beat against her cheek as he reached around her back rubbing circles into her shoulder. He put his cheek on top her head and said 'Come on. We miss that smile. How about we have a contest to see who can tell the worst joke?'

She nodded and said with the smallest voice, 'You go first.'

John thought for a second and said, 'Knock Knock'

'Who's there?'

'Doctor'

'Doctor Who?'

'Da dump dump' he giggled. She couldn't help but smile it was so bad and something she had heard so many times. She thought racked her brain for something worse and said 'Two guys walk into a bar and the third one ducks.'

She felt John chortle and she giggled and looked up.

'There it is.' He whispered smiling down at her. He swept in and gave her a kiss on the cheek and then turned to the stove. 'So...how about those eggs? I promise not to include any ears.' He turned and winked.

Molly put her hand to her cheek, nodded, 'Okay.'

OoOOooOOoo

After Molly finished her breakfast and curled up on the couch, Sherlock turned to her in his chair and John sat in front of her on the coffee table. They glanced at each other and John started 'Molly, we have to talk about yesterday.'

'Uh-oh' she thought.

'While you were sleeping…before your shower…Sherlock and I went to your flat to check things out. While we were there…' He hesitated for a moment but Sherlock nodded and leaned forward. 'We came across two men burglarizing your greenhouse. We aren't sure what exactly they were after but we apprehended … or the police did… one of them. We believe based on the evidence that this man is one of the men who raped you.'

Molly gasped and looked to the door leading upstairs. She hadn't thought… she knew they were out there and worked for Jim but they were so close. Her flat was so close… She needed to get out of here. She needed to find a better place to hide. What if they came after her again. Tears started to well and she started to feel like she couldn't breath.

'Molly. It's okay. Focus on me. Focus on my breaths.' John said as he drew in a breath though his nose and blew it out through his mouth. He did this a few times and Sherlock mirrored his efforts. Molly tried as well. After what seemed like an hour but really was maybe 30 seconds, her breath steadied.

'Okay?' John asked.

'Yes.' She nodded.

'Okay…Lestrade has the man detained down at the yard but he needs you to come down to NSY for a line up…if you think you're up for it.'

Both pairs of eyes trained on her as they waited for a response. They could see Molly struggling with this decision and after the last few days neither of them could blame her.

Sherlock got up and sat next to her on the couch. 'We'll be with you the whole time.'

John nodded.

'Okay' she said in a small voice 'As long as you both are there. I think I can do this…right? I can do this…' looking to them for validation.

'Definitely.' Sherlock said taking her other hand 'Definitely.'

ooOOooOOoo

All three walked into Lestrade's office not 20 minutes later. Sherlock striding in while John walked slower with Molly, who huddled into herself as people stopped and looked up as she passed.

'God...Everyone must know...' she whispered as she turned beet red.

'It's okay, Molly. They are just concerned. That's all...' John said putting his arm around her shoulder.

'Lestrade.' Sherlock said as he reached the DI's desk.

'Oh...Hi...Molly...' Lestrade said as he nodded to her before he got up to walk around his desk. He leant against it and crossed his arms in front of him. 'We are almost set up. Now listen, Molly. You have worked with us before...you know the drill. We are going to take you to the next floor down. There you will be directed into a room. Me, Stg. Donovan and I am assuming these two guys will be there with you as well as a lawyer for the defense. We will be behind tinted glass, so when the men come out they can't see us, but you will be able to see them. If you see the man who... hurt... raped you, please let us know. Okay?'

She nodded the smallest of nods.

' Okay.' he said reaching out and patting her shoulder. He walked past her and stuck his head out his door and yelled 'Donovan!'

Sally almost immediately popped her head into the office.

'Are we all set up?' he asked.

'Yes. Everything is ready.'

He turned to all three of them and said 'Okay... Let's go.'

oOoOo

They all bustled down the stairs and into the room where there was a man in a suit waiting and there was a large plate glass window with an intercom next to it.

Molly stood in the middle of all of them and Sally hit the intercom. 'Okay... Bring them in.'

The men filed in each holding a number.

Molly began to tremble as the men came in and she saw a familiar face. She grabbed the hand closest to hers, which was Sherlock's. He squeezed back trying to comfort her.

'Molly. Do you see the man who attacked you?' Lestrade queried.

Molly hesitated. She knew full well which one he was but she was so scared.

Sherlock put his arm around her shoulder. He knew she had seen number Four before he could see it register in her eyes by the way she tensed up as soon as he crossed the threshold into the room. He could see how scared she was

'It's okay, Molly.' John said from her other side as soothing as he could...'Take your time...They can't see you.'

'Number Four.' She whispered...her voice cracking. She didn't make eye contact with anyone...just continued to stare forward... at him... at the man who changed her life in such a bitter way. She cleared her throat. 'Number Four.' she said again a little louder 'is the one who... who raped me.' Tears flowed down her cheeks and she turned into Sherlock's embrace. 'He's the one who... who broke me.'

Sherlock and John looked at each other over Molly's head. He wasn't sure what to do. But John nodded to him, almost willing him to offer her more comfort. Sherlock planted a kiss into her crown. 'It's okay, Molly... It's okay.' Her tears subside but she didn't move.

'If that's all, Greg...' Sherlock looked up.

Lestrade was taken aback. Sherlock never called him by his first name before... he cleared his throat. 'Yes...yes. That'll be all for now.' He put his hand on Molly's shoulder to get her attention. 'Molly, when you're up to it, please give me or Donovan a call and we will be over for the rest of your statement...okay?'

She only nodded her head, which was still hidden in Sherlock's chest. Sherlock lead her out of the room followed closely by John, who nodded to Lestrade and Donovan as he left.

'I can't believe the freak...' Sally started.

'Donovan! Just shut it!' Lestreade said walking out the door.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: In honor of my 50th follower and 10,000th view (!), I thought I would post a new chapter today.

Thanks so much for reading and for those who reviewed. I love hearing what you guys think.

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC, and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

The next day, Lestrade stopped by at Molly's request. All three residents of 221B heard Mrs. Hudson answer the door and Lestrade greet her. She directed him upstairs. With each step, John could see Molly grow more rigid, her eyes widening, and, by the final two steps, he was across the room sitting next to her for support.

'Don't worry. It will all be over soon. It's all going to be okay.' he said as he rubbed circles into her back.

She leaned forward on her elbows worrying her hands together and looked up at Greg as he entered the room. In his arms was the purple potted plant.

'Hey' John said to the DI

'Hey, John. Sherlock. Molly – here.' He said holding out the plant.

Molly got up and took the plant and set it on the coffee table. She smiled as she looked at it … looking it over with a loving but critical eye. She fluttered her fingers over the leaves and noted a new one that had sprouted since her… since she had been gone. She checked the soil for moisture and it seemed freshly watered. John cleared his throat and Molly looked around and saw all three men were watching her very carefully as she inspected the plant.

'You took care of it for me.' She said glancing up at Lestrade. He shrugged and nodded. 'It may just be a plant but it's still alive. Serve and protect…that's me.' He said with a little humor in his eye.

'You know, Molly, when we went to your flat the other night and captured the man you saw yesterday, the one thing he was trying to steal was this.' Sherlock said as he rose from his chair. With his hands clasped behind his back, he leaned over the plant examining it with his eyes, 'Why do you think that would be?'

Molly sat down on the couch with the plant in front of her and sighed. She looked to each man trying to find the strength to tell her story and started.

'As you know, Jim and I dated in the past…' She cleared her throat trying to find the words… 'I know you all wondered how I could have gone out with _him_ but he was sweet to me and paid attention to me unlike some people I knew.'

Both John and Lestrade cocked their eyebrows at Sherlock, who didn't acknowledge that he knew who she had meant.

'During that time, which was really, despite only being three real dates, over about a month, we talked about many things…my job at St. Bart's, Sherlock and my other passion, roses. Apparently, Jim is quite the gardener.'

Sherlock grunted in disbelief and went back to his chair, picking up his violin to pluck at its strings. Lestrade gave him a glare and nodded for Molly to continue.

'Sherlock – just as you have your violin… Jim has … well … hobbies too. Despite everything that runs through his head and all the horrible things he does, one of the things he loves and can truly appreciate is a thing of beauty. Roses are that even to him and we connected over it.' She smiled thinking back of the nights talking with him about them, 'We each had our favorite that we grew. Both were very rare. In my lab, I was able to force a rare gene out from hiding with my Applause rose bush, which is rare in itself, and now have one of the few known specimens of a truly blue rose. Jim had been working on a similar project with one of his favorites, Sterling Silver roses.'

'They are they silver pink ones without the thorns, right?' John said 'like in the movie.'

'Right. But what most people don't know is that one in several thousand Sterling Silver rose blooms creates a true black rose. They are extremely rare and quite expensive. Jim loved them and was trying to cultivate a plant that just bloomed these black roses by breeding only the recessive gene of the plant. He also felt that the deep red of the rose actually turns wasn't black enough. He thought if he could introduce some other pigments he might be able to find true black and really wanted to try blue. That's where I came in… my blue roses. He wanted to take a sample from her… my rose bush. I gave it to him freely. He was so pleased and suggested an experiment, which was this.' She gestured toward the plant.

Sherlock was intrigued. Anything he had known about horticulture had been pretty preliminary and he had deleted it long ago but the idea of using genetic engineering to experiment with and come up with just the right color of rose was fascinating. He got up and walked to the plant again, leaning to examine it. 'How is _this_ an experiment?'

'Have you ever heard of grafting?' she asked as she looked up. All three shook their heads. She fingered the bandaged part of the plant. 'It's pretty common with horticulturalists. You take a part of your original plant by cutting the end of a branch into a V. You place that trimming into a living plant and the cutting essentially becomes a clone of the plant it came from. It draws nutrients from the plant it was inserted but keeps its natural state. But the experiment was that occasionally the cutting will take traits of the new plant. Jim wanted to see if we could get the roses to bloom blue bases with black tips, similar to what you might see on a tulip. That's what this is or what this 'lil bit will be when it grows up.'

'But why would he try to steal it?'

'I don't know. I do know that if it does what we think it will do, it will become one of the rarest flowers on the planet. A rose bush like that could be worth millions to certain collectors. Plus, I think he wanted to see how it turns out… to continue his experiment. I mean the experiment isn't finished… it hasn't bloomed. I don't think you would ever leave an experiment half finished, would you, Sherlock?'

'Only if John makes me throw it out.' He frowned thinking of one last month that smelled so bad, John made him carry it down to the bins outside to throw it away. He continued to ghost the leaves of the plant.

'But why send those goons after you?'

'Lestrade – don't be an idiot' Sherlock said 'It's obvious.'

'Not to the rest of us.' John said exasperatedly 'Explain.'

'A diversion that went too far. Moriarty must still have feelings for our dear Molly and sent his men to keep her distracted or away so he could come and get what was his without having to deal with her. He must have been called away on some business before retrieving the plant that night and his men… well, they merely took advantage of the situation and took it too far.'

Molly cringed and cradled her head into her hands at Sherlock's frank appraisal of what happened. John took her into his arms as she started to shake. 'They called me pretty. They said… He said Jim didn't tell them how pretty I was while he held a gun to my back and sniffed my hair.' A shiver ran down her spine at the memory.

'Molly…' Lestrade said moving the plant a little so he could sit across from her on the coffee table before taking her hand 'I know you don't want to talk about it but we need to know the story… the whole story of what happened that night. Do you think you can tell us?

And so she told them everything that she could… about the cat and the men sneaking up on her… about how the large one, 'Mick', held a gun to her head and made her do things she just wanted to forget … about his massive hand that was at her throat choking her and pinning her down… about how she lost consciousness ... about how when she came to she was in a pile of garbage like they had used her up and threw her away… about how she called John and got Sherlock instead and how she just knew he would find her. She could feel John's hands clench into fists at ever word and his heart take off.

'…and you know everything from there. You… you were there.' She said as she felt tears rolling down her cheeks 'Everyone knows what happened from there…' She shook her head wondering how this happened to her.

John started to gently rub her back again. 'It's okay. It's over now.' He looked to the DI, 'Do you need anything else, Greg?'

Lestrade, pale faced after hearing the horrific tale, shook his head and said 'No…No… that's all for now. Molly – we will put this through as your official statement. There will be more to come later but right now we are in a holding pattern at the court level. We are still searching for Moriarty and this other man, Joe. But, Molly.' He tugged her hand bringing up her gaze 'We are going to catch them. I promise you that. You are family. We take care of family.' He patted the back of her hand with his other and said 'Okay… is there anything you need? Anything at all?'

'Yes – I…' Molly bit her lip and looked at Sherlock and John hoping they wouldn't take this badly 'I just want to go home. Is it safe?'

'Molly' John said incredulously...not believing that she would want to leave the safety of Baker St. after only a few days 'It won't be safe until Moriarty is caught.'

'But I can't just sit here and wallow anymore, John. I just want to go home and sleep in my bed and watch my TV and pet my cat. I love you both… I really do... but I need normal again.'

'I know, Molly… I know…' John sighed.

* * *

Just so you know, I did some research on roses, horticulture, etc. for this chapter. I myself am not a horticulturalist and know nothing of that science but it seemed like a cool idea. Some of what I talked about can happen but some sadly can't, like truly blue roses and breeding the streak virus into a rose. Please forgive me for writing about the stuff that can't but remember it is all fiction anyway so c'est la vie. Hope you enjoyed. More will be coming soon. :)


	12. Chapter 12

Author Note: Thanks to everyone who is following and posted reviews. If you haven't already, please R&R.

Sorry again about any grammar issues... but commas as I mentioned before are not my friend.

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

Lestrade was able to work his magic and get cleaners in from the yard to clean up all the fingerprint dustings, police tape, and change the locks for Molly so she could home within a few days. She ended up being a little sad about leaving John and Sherlock but she was glad to go back to the creature comforts of home – her warm bed, her favorite mug, and of course, her cuddle bunny, Toby.

As she left, she gave Sherlock a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. He stood arrow straight, obviously unused to this type of open affection. She leaned up and whispered in his ear, 'Thank you…thank you for answering the phone and finding me.' She grasped his hand and squeezed 'Thank you for being my knight in shining armor.' She let him go and he stared at her intensely for a moment and then turned and sat in his chair, strumming his Strand.

Next, she gave John an equally big hug, which lingered longer than hers with Sherlock. She kissed his cheek, ran her hands down his arms and pulled his hands into hers. She stepped back not letting go of her grip and looked into his eyes. 'Thank you, John. I truthfully don't think I would have made it through this without you.'

He smiled and squeezed her hands, 'You're welcome. I'm glad we were able to be there for you. And, please remember, anything you need… anything at all… day or night – just call. Me or Sherlock…We'll come – all you have to do is ask.'

She felt like Dorothy at the end of the Wizard of Oz saying goodbye to the Scarecrow and the Tin Man.

'Okay,.. Goodbye, Scarecrow. I think I'll miss you most of all.' She said in a cracking voice. She smiled up to him and leaned in again for a hug. John chuckled at the reference and she said 'Thank you.' one last time, dropping his hands.

She grabbed her duffle bag ad followed Lesstrade, who had offered to give her a ride home, down the seventeen steps…remembering her climb up them less than a week ago. She shook her head trying to loosen the memory. She wanted to start fresh and think positive. She turned at the landing and waved back up to John as she exited 221B Baker. Home…There's no place like home according to that Dorothy and she was ready.

ooOOooOOoo

John closed the door to the flat. He stood there for a second, pushing away any worries for Molly out of his mind, and turned on his heel (his military training peeking out a bit) and walked to his chair.

'You should pursue her, John.' Sherlock said without even looking up from what he was working on.

'What?!' John sputtered.

'You should ask Molly out.' Sherlock said almost flippantly 'You two have bonded over this situation and it is so obviously clear that she likes you.'

'What are you talking about? She likes _me_? What makes you think that?'

'John, it was so obvious I am not even going to justify that with a response.'

'Sherlock, we both know she's been in love with you. She has been for as long as I've known her. Hell, she barely knew my name before a week ago…she has been so focused on you. Plus, I'm not going to steal your girl. It's obvious to me _you_ are the one with feelings here and I'm too good of a friend to tread on those no matter the amount of transference the girl is feeling.'

'My girl? Really, John? This isn't the 1940's.'

_hmph.._

"She's not mine. And… transference – the Nightingale effect in reverse. You really think that's what this is? Feelings change, even I know that and it is obvious hers have.'

_'Of all the people to be talking about feelings with'_ John thought. He bristled as he sat in his chair, but he stayed there for a moment thinking about Molly…the way she smiled at him…how comfortable she was around him… maybe something had changed and he just didn't notice.

'You know, John. We have established that relationships, specifically with women, are not my area of expertise, but I think when you 'snuggle' with someone on the couch, it means something.'

Pink crept up John's neck as he thought back to the night before.

The Wizard of Oz had come on the telly and so they decided to watch it. John and Molly has sat on the couch and Sherlock in his chair. Sherlock hadn't lasted long yelling 'WRONG' within the first 10 minutes. He instantly received a glare from Molly and a raised eyebrow from John so he got up to work on an experiment in the other room.

John and Molly continued to watch the rest of the movie together and as soon as the flying monkeys were dispatched after Dorothy by the wicked witch, Molly hid her face behind John's shoulder.

'This is the scary part.' she said…a shiver running down her spine. 'Tell me when it's done.'

John had reached around and put his arm around her shoulder as soon as the scene was over and whispered 'Okay' with a little bit of a smirk.

Molly moved forward and rested her head on his shoulder with one hand tucked under her leg and the other holding his hand at her shoulder. They watched the rest of the movie like that. John hadn't really registered it as cuddling…he had just offering her some comfort and it was so comfortable to sit with her like that but as he looked back on it now it totally was.

He sighed. Maybe this had went somewhere unexpected but it was likely just infatuation as he said before based on transference. He had had patients who had fell him before when working through a long term issue, but as soon as they were out of the hospital they were fine. That's what would happen here with Molly. Now that she was home and not around John 24/7, she wouldn't think about him like that anymore. He would go back to the friend zone and Sherlock would come back front and center. Right? Right… but the question was, was that where he wanted to be. Her smile…her big eyes ... her heart so open…her ... well, her everything... made him think about her in a different way now that he looked back. She wasn't Molly from the Morgue any longer…She was just Molly to him now, with whom he had shared a laugh, a cry, a cuddle and a bed.

He saw Sherlock turn and raise his eyebrow at him…obviously still expecting a response, but John just shrugged, picked up his newspaper and sighed.

ooOOooOOoo

Her regularly meticulous flat was in complete disarray. Molly had been home for a few days now and had not left the apartment at all. Lestrade had at least helped her get situated when he dropped her off and had planted men downstairs to help her feel safe. But the favors had run out and she had just said goodbye to the last officer not twenty minutes ago. She cursed herself for not having had one of them go to the shop with her while they were here as she headed into the kitchen and found herself completely out of cat food, milk and other bare essentials.

She sighed. She was tired of spending the days trembling in her bed with the light always on and a knife on her bedside table. She was ready to take her life back. She straightened her shoulders and put together a list of supplies she needed, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed out the door. The door lock jammed as she tried to lock it but after a few tries she was able to get it to finally work.

She went down the stairs and hesitated at the door…her hand on the knob. She had been outside since the attack and she had done fine, but she had always had someone with her.

'I am not weak. I CAN do this. It is broad daylight out…no one will hurt you in broad daylight.' she told herself. She turned the knob and went out into the sun. She went down the stairs and up the walk. 'I am fine… fine.'

Luckily, there was a Tesco not even three blocks away, so she was able to get there quickly. She filled her basket up with everything on her list and even bought a couple of special things for a girl's night in to celebrate her first outing alone. She smiled at herself and her accomplishment as she walked out the door and headed home with her arms laden with her prizes.

As she walking home, there suddenly was a noise behind her and someone yelled 'Watch Out!' She whipped around and stepped towards a lamp pole as someone ran by her and into traffic. Thirty seconds later, a cop ran past her with a gun out stretched, yelling 'Stop!'

She stood there a moment and started to tremble. They were gone in an instant but she couldn't move. Soon her bags grew heavy and she looked around. Her heart pounded in her chest. She dropped her bags and she sagged to a crouch. She started to hyperventilate and drew the interest of a passerby.

'Are you okay?' the woman said as she crouched next to Molly placing her hand on her shoulder. Molly winced away from her touch and tears started to fall down her cheeks. 'Honey..are you okay?'

Molly shook her head no and closed her eyes. 'I just need a minute… I think I am going to have a panic attack.'

'Okay… It's going to be okay. I'll stay here with you. Should I call someone for you or call an ambulance?'

'No…No. That's okay.' Molly winced at the idea of two ambulance rides in the matter of a week.

Instead, she took a couple of deep breaths and tried gain her focus back. She did a visualization exercise she learned once in a psychology class. She pictured herself in a canoe. Right now, the waters were rough and the canoe kept hitting the edges of the river. But she steadied her breath and visualized herself gaining control of her canoe again and paddling it down the center of the river. The tears dried and she could feel her body relax as she took deep breaths in, continuing to see the river ahead of her as it started to steady. She opened her eyes after a couple more deep breaths and looked up to the woman. 'I think I'll be okay now.' She said as she rose to her feet.

'Are you sure?' the woman's hand back on her shoulder.

'Yes…I'll be okay... I'm fine. It's only a couple of blocks.'

'You know what ... it will make me feel better if you let me walk you there. If it's only a couple of blocks then it's on my way anyway.'

Molly agreed to let the woman walk her home and soon learned her name was Mary and she worked at a local school. She deposited Molly on her stoop and waved goodbye. Molly couldn't believe someone was so nice. She would have to send her flowers for helping her she thought as she turned and opened the door to step inside.

She walked up the steps to her door and turned the key but it wouldn't open. She tried again and again but it was stuck. Finally, after what seemed like a million tries and combinations of wiggles of the knob and pushing of the door, the tumbler turned but Molly had gotten so worked up about it, she turned the key too hard that final time and broke it in the lock.

_'Damn… just my luck.' _

She went inside and put all the perishables away before calling her landlord. Of course, he couldn't come right away…it would have to wait until tomorrow. Molly sighed. She looked at the door and decided to put a chair under the knob until tomorrow. She didn't want to have bother anyone else about it and she couldn't do it on her own so that would have to do...It would be fine. she told herself

By the time it was all said it done, it was almost 7:00. She made a quick dinner of a bowl of popcorn, two scoops of ice cream and a large glass of red wine and planted herself in front of the TV for her girl's night in. She popped in her favorite romantic comedy and tried to will herself to forgetting about the day. _'Tomorrow will be a better day…'_ she thought to herself _'It had to be...' _


	13. Chapter 13

Author Note: Thanks to everyone who is following and have posted reviews. I am continuing this because of you. If you haven't already, please R&R.

Hope you enjoy...

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

John woke in a start when the boat he was sailing in his dream suddenly came upon a squall and flipped over. It appeared that the squall's name was Sherlock, who was bent over his bed shaking his shoulder.

'What time is it?' John asked groggily wiping the sleep from his eyes.

'Around 1:00 AM' Sherlock replied shoving John's phone into his face, 'You left this downstairs and I will not answer it for you again after what happened last time.'

John took the ringing phone and saw it was Molly.

'Jesus, Sherlock. You should have just answered it.'

'She wanted to talk to you not me. You're better at dealing with weeping women anyway.' He said turning away and closing the door behind him before John could ask him how he knew she would be weeping.

'Hello? Molly? Is everything okay?'

'John?' Molly whispered her voice cracking.

'Molly? Are you okay? What happened?'

'I heard a noise. I'm…I'm so scared that their back…' She whispered, her breath hitching as though she was holding back tears.

'It's okay…I need you to calm down. Was the noise coming from inside or outside your flat?'

'I don't know… Outside, I guess, from the greenhouse. John? Will you come over? Please?'

'Of course. Of course, I will. I am already on the way.' John said as he pulled on his clothes, 'Just sit tight. I'll be there in ten.'

'Okay.' She hiccupped as she hung up.

He pulled on his shoes and rushed down the stairs for his jacket. He glanced over at Sherlock as he put it on and said 'Molly's heard a noise right outside her flat. I'm going to go take a look.'

'I'll come. Let me just grab my coat.'

'No – It's okay. I got this.' He said behind him as he ran down the stairs to catch a cab.

ooOOooOOoo

He had the cab drop him off around the corner from Molly's building, trying not to alert any potential burglars at the sound of a car. He ran down and around the corner to Molly's and quickly accessed the house. Only one light was on – Molly's. Were her neighbors never home? He needed to get her some place safer than this…some place at least with neighbors who were home every once in a while so that she could turn to them if she couldn't get a hold of him or Sherlock. He sighed shaking his head and pulled his gun from his waistband.

He moved quickly and as stealthily as possible to the front of the building, using the corner to cover him as he peeked around to the side where the greenhouse lay. He watched it for a minute to see if he could see any lights inside or even a silhouette from the street lamps. But he didn't see anything.

Suddenly, he heard a crash from inside, like a pot being thrown. He pulled his gun up from his side and, while keeping close to the ground, approached the small building. He peeked into the window. Luckily, the street lamp did shine in enough that he could see in but he didn't see anyone. He tried the knob on the door and it didn't seem to be locked, so he swung it open as forcefully as possible and stormed inside. Nothing… he looked behind the door, in the tool shed and behind the benches, but all he found was two broken pots on the floor and the still broken window that Joe had escaped through. Then he heard a pot shift behind him. He whipped around and aimed the gun at the noise. Down the barrel, he saw a cat… a gray cat with green eyes… who was looking up at him and purring. He pulled his gun back with a laugh.

'You little monster.' He said as he put his hand out to rub the cat behind the ears, 'Are you the one causing all this trouble?'

The cat purred, rubbing its cheek against John's hand. It moved closer to the edge and jumped down from the table. It rubbed up against his leg and wrapped its tail around it.

John stooped down and picked up the animal. He could feel its bones through its fur. Poor thing just need some food. He stuck it into his coat to keep it warm and held it against his side as he left the greenhouse and ran up to the porch of the house. The front door was propped open with a phone book. John sighed again as he pushed the door open. Definitely needed to get her out of this building and into a more secure flat.

He ran up the stairs and knocked on the door. It opened a crack as he struck it. His stomach dropped. He splayed his hand onto the door and pushed it further open.

'Molly?' he whispered.

'DIE YOU BASTARD!' Molly screamed as she jumped from behind the sofa with a knife.

'WHOA!' John blurted out as he turned towards her and grabbed her wrist. The knife clattered to the floor as Molly gasped realizing it was John and not Joe or Moriarty. John grunted as she tackled him with a hug. She was shivering and crying.

'John…oh, John. I'm so sorry. I thought you were him…'

'Hey, it's okay. Normally, people don't greet me with a knife but it's not the first time and I'll let it slide just this once.' He chuckled into her neck trying to break the tension with a joke as he rubbed circles into her back. 'But I do have one question for you... If you heard a noise downstairs and you were this scared, why on God's green earth is your door open?'


	14. Chapter 14

Author Note: Thanks to everyone who is following and have posted reviews. I am continuing this because of you. If you haven't already, please R&R.

Hope you enjoy...

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

'Molly?' John held her back so he could look into her eyes, 'Why was your door open?'

She closed her eyes and shook her head. 'It's broken. I broke my key in the lock earlier today and the door wouldn't latch correctly. After I heard the noise, I was too scared to put anything in front of it in case someone was hiding in the flat and I needed to get away quickly…' she looked up into John's eyes, which were filled with concern and disbelief.

'You could have called us or taken a cab to Baker St.'

'No… no – I didn't want to bother you guys about a broken lock. The landlord is coming tomorrow to fix it and I thought I was fine… I wasn't even scared. I had a crap day but I … I just wanted to be able to do this on my own and I thought I had everything under control.' She waved her hand dismissively 'But then…' he voice cracking 'I heard it… the noise and I got scared and called you right away.'

She went back to hug him but this time she heard a small mew from under John's coat. She looked up at him and then at the bulge near his hip that was moving. She undid the button holding his coat shut and opened it to see him holding a gray cat underneath. Not just any gray cat but the gray cat from that night. She could tell it was him just from the eyes.

'This little guy was the one causing the ruckus downstairs. It seems he must have went in there for some shelter and just knocked a couple of pots off the table. Seems he's just a little mischief maker.'

'Yes – that seems to be what they do, doesn't it…' she said as she took the cat from John to hold it to her chest. She stroked its back as she looked down to one of the only other true witnesses to what has happened that night and tears welled in her eyes. Her heart caught in her throat and the walls started to feel like they were coming in. She went and sat down on the couch letting out a shaky sigh. She closed her eyes as she felt herself tremble and a tear ran down her cheek. She pet the animal, which jumped down off her lap almost immediately.

She felt John sink into the sofa next to her. She looked up to him with bright eyes. He swiped the tear from her cheek and opened his arms to her. She quickly went to his embrace. Pushing her cheek into the wool of his sweater in hopes to feel his heart beat against it again to steady herself on the metronome of his being. This man was so solid…so steady…exactly what she needed ... not only at this moment she thought but possibly for ... for the rest of her life.

John enveloped her in his arms and bent his head to place his cheek on the top of her head just as he had held her before. He could feel the tremble of her body beneath his arms and he sighed.

'Oh, Molly.' He whispered and planted a kiss on her temple 'I wish… I wish…' he closed his eyes and shook his head not coming to the words he so desperately sought. Molly looked up to his face and saw his eyes closed. She drew her hands up to his cheeks and kissed him ever so softly on his lips. 'I know.' She whispered.

At the touch of their lips, electric coursed through them both. She trailed her thumb along his bottom lip looking into his eyes. She closed hers again willing herself to live in this moment and allowing all others to drift away. At that she leaned into another kiss.

This time John kissed back – tentatively at first but then almost as if a dam broke emboldened with more passion. She let out a small groan as he pulled her closer to his chest.

He tilted his head for a better angle and his tongue drew across her top lip seeking permission for entrance. She grinned against the kiss and parted her lips slightly. Their tongues collided and danced for what seemed like light years. The sound of blood rushing in their ears and their hearts pounding towards one another in their embrace was all that they could hear.

'Oh!' Molly exclaimed breaking their reverie as she pushed her fist into a spasm in her back.

'Are you okay?' John asked – his lips red and bruised.

She smiled meekly and her eyebrow twitched up slightly. She had done that… Oh God, this beautiful man.

'Yeah. I just need a better angle. This is killing my back.' She whispered.

She leaned back against the other arm of the couch and pulled on John's collar taking him with her. He smirked looking down at her. She looked completely and throughly kissed and her pupils were blown out with desire. He swiped a wisp of hair off her cheek and said 'My God, Woman. What have you done to me?'

She giggled but before she could respond, he was kissing her again. His hands ran up and down her sides. Hers went around his neck pulling him closer. His finally settled at the hem of her shirt. He pulled back for a minute, looking to her to see if he was moving to fast…if she was okay with all of this and she gave him a little nod.

She closed her eyes again as his one knee settled between hers and the other on the outside her right. He trailed kisses down her jaw and to her neck. His hands nimbly working on the buttons on her shirt. She gasped as he sucked on the pulse point on her throat.

'Oh, John.' She moaned.

She ran her fingers through his hair pressing him to her neck. He finally had her shirt open and trailed his fingers up and down her stomach and around her back splaying them along her spine to pull her closer. She arched to his touch. He continued his trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone to the top of her breast.

Just then John's phone rang.

He sighed and tried to ignore it. He continued his work only to find Molly had stilled underneath him. The phone having pulled her away from the moment.

'John, your phone… you should answer it.'

'No, Love. I am a little busy at the moment.'

'John, I think if someone is calling you this early in the morning it might be important.'

John sighed and leaned back on his heels, wiping a plam against his face while he gropped for his phone and his composure.

'It's Sherlock.' He said to Molly as he pulled it from his pocket.

'It must be important then. He never called…only texts.'

John answered the phone while he eyed Molly as she swung her feet to the ground and started buttoning up her shirt.

'This better be good, Sherlock.'

'John – Is everything okay? I thought you would have texted me by now.'

'Yes… yes, everyone's fine. Just a stray cat making some noise.'

'Good – I need you here now. There's been a murder.'

'What? It's 2:30 in the morning, Sherlock. Can't it wait?' he said – futilely since he knew the answer.

'Death waits for no man, John. Sorry but this can not wait. I need you here now. It's Mick – he has just been pulled from the Thames.'

'What!? But how?' John said disbelievingly. Molly's eyes jumped to his trying to read what Sherlock had told him.

'John – don't be an idiot. That's why I'm here and need you here… To figure it out. I'll text you the address. Please come at once.'

'Sherlock –' No answer. John looked down at his phone 'He hung up on me.' He said as he tried to process what Sherlock had just told him.

Molly reached out and touched his shoulder 'What happened?'

'It's Mick, Molly. The police just pulled him from the river.'

'Oh.' She whispered biting her lip. He studied her face for a moment trying to read her emotions. His adam's apple bobbed and he shook his head deciding he needed to take control of this situation. He stood up and pulled Molly up off the couch. 'Come on.'

'Where are we going?' she asked.

'I'm putting you in a cab to Baker Street' He said as he searched his coat pocket and then pushed his keys into her hands. 'and I am going to go and try and help Sherlock.'

She looked down to the keys in her hands and up to John. She could tell there was no use arguing and said 'Okay.'


	15. Chapter 15

Author Note: Thanks to everyone who is following and have posted reviews. If you haven't already, please R&R but please be gentle.

To be honest, I am not 100% sure about all of this chapter but these characters got away from me and are doing things they aren't supposed to. As corny as it sounds...

Hope you enjoy... and definitely keep an eye out for the next chapter... it's a doozy.

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

As John's cab pulled up to the crime scene, he watched Sherlock and Lestrade duck under the tape and huddle together - obviously discussing the case. John gave some money to the cabbie and darted from the car. Just then he got a text.

_Made it safe. See you soon. MH x_

John smiled to himself at the 'x' in Molly's message as he strode up to the other two men.

'John. There you are.' Sherlock said. His gaze sweeping over John's face. John felt the detective's eyes focus a little too hard on him and felt a blush creep up his neck. 'You have missed all the fun. I was just explaining to Lestrade what happened, how Mick 'escaped' NSY and how he ended up there in the Thames.'

'But...I just got here... you couldn't have waited?'

'Sorry, John, but you took too long. Anderson was pitching a fit about the scene being contaminated and wanting to get the body back to the Morgue. So I had to work quickly.' Sherlock said as he patted John on the shoulder a couple of times 'You understand. Now Lestrade... we'll be going.'

'But Sherlock, I have a few more questions...'

'Things I am sure you will be able to deduce on your own, Lestrade, if you only open your eyes.'

The D.I. rolled his eyes but was then pulled away by Donovan regarding something they found by the water.

'But I just got here, Sherlock. Per your request..._your_ phone call.' John sputtered holding his hands out to the scene in front of them.

'I know and now we are leaving.' Sherlock said spinning the doctor around, 'Quickly, John. We have more pressing matters than some dead body.'

He looked up at Sherlock questioningly.

'Take a look at this' Sherlock whispered as he pressed a piece of paper into the doctor's hands before reaching out to flag a cab.

'What is this? Is this evidence? Sherlock? We've talked about removing evidence from the scene.'

'It was addressed to Molly. We are merely delivering it.' he said as a cab pulled over and he ducked into it followed closely by John.

In the cab, John unfolded the piece of paper. It appeared to be a listing of sorts for four online auctions. Each were for what appeared to be for a clipping from Molly's elusive Surprise rose bush. Across the page in black sharpie was scrawled the note 'M - YOU OWE ME. JM'

'Someone's not happy' John mused as he looked up to his companion, who raised his eyebrows and nodded. He took the paper and folded it into his pocket.

'I found it in the deceased's shoe while Lestrade wasn't looking and pocketed it. I am not sure why Moriarty would leave us a clue but I believe the game is afoot.'

John sighed - not just from the exhaustion of the day but because of Moriarty's need to make everything into a game and his partner's incessant use of the phrase 'the game is afoot' and how this time it was a truly bad pun on top of everything else. He shook his head and turned to the window leaning his head against the cool glass and waited for home and finally ... hopefully some sleep.

ooOOooOOoo

John stifled a yawn as he wandered into the flat. He looked at his watch and could hardly believe it was already 5 AM.

'Go to bed, John.' Sherlock said as he took of his coat and scarf and hooked them next to Molly's.

'I can't. Molly's up there. No need to scare her half to death after the day she had yesterday... I'll just kip out on the couch.'

'No, John. Go ahead and use mine. I have a case to solve... I won't be using it anytime soon and you look like you are going to fall over. The couch won't give you enough space to sleep comfortably and I do not need to deal with a moody doctor in the morning on top of everything else.'

'I can't, Sherlock. I can't go in there. I'm too scared.' John said with a tremble pointing to Sherlock's bedroom door.

'What are you talking about?' Sherlock said as his head whipped up from the computer he had just turned on...John's computer.

'God only knows what's growing in there. I've seen what you keep in the fridge. I'm scared to see what you keep in your room.' John said with as straight of a face as possible - but with mirth dazzling from his eyes.

'Go!' Sherlock said forcefully pointing to his door. 'I need to think and don't need your snoring distracting me.'

John chuckled as he turned and walked to his new room 'Fine. But wake me when she gets up though, okay?'

'Of course, John. Of course.'

ooOOooOOoo

Later that morning, John woke to the sound of giggling. A puzzled look crept to his face as he swung his feet out of Sherlock's surprisingly comfortable bed. He stood and stretched, bones cracking into place as he did. He opened the door and walked into the other room scratching his side and wondering what could possibly be so funny. He tried to pat down his bed head as he peeked around the corner into the living room and found Sherlock and Molly on the sofa bent over his computer.

'Morning.' he mumbled 'Sherlock - you were supposed to wake me up.'

'Someone wouldn't let me.' he said hooking his thumb towards the woman next to him 'I may be 'bullheaded' as I believe someone recently called me but if a doctor tells me something I listen.'

Molly giggled but John just rolled his eyes

'Tea?' he asked as he turned and trudged into the kitchen wondering how on earth these two could be in such a good mood.

'Not now, we're working on something. John - you look like hell. Perhaps you should go back to bed and get a little more sleep.'

'No... no... I'm up.' he waved his hand in dismissal even though he knew no one could see him. He popped on the kettle and reached up to get the tea and a mug from the cabinet.

He heard someone approach him from behind timidly and knew it was Molly. He wasn't sure how she would feel today after what happened last night and was a little worried that if he turned around she would tarnish what for him had been amazing.

'Hey' she said in a small voice.

'Hey' he said clearing his throat as he turned around to see her standing there biting her bottom lip, worrying her fingers together obviously as unsure about last night's events as he suspected.

She immediately went on the defensive, 'Listen, John. About last night and that kiss... well kisses... I don't want you think that I ... well I am just not sure... It's just that...'

'Whoa there.' John said as he held up his hand to stop her and reached it out and placed it on her shoulder, 'Molly, we are both adults here. Last night was just... well it was fantastic but ... obviously you are still working through all of this and I know you need space to find ... well to figure out what you want. There's nothing wrong with that.'

'Right... it's just that... well...' Molly stammered.

'It's all okay. I am here and I think you know what I am offering. But of all things, I just don't want you to think that last night was some... some mistake or something. It wasn't. It was wonderful. You have to know that I want to pursue this' he gestured between the two of them 'but at your pace, Love. Not mine. Now, come on. Sit down, have some tea with me and tell me what could possibly be so funny that you even had Sherlock laughing about it.'

Molly looked up at John - stunned that he could just lay it all out like that. She did need time but this man... She nodded to him and turned to sit down in a chair. 'Well... Sherlock was just telling me about the time you and he...'

Just then Sherlock strode into the room. 'John - aren't you done making your tea yet? We have a case to solve. If you two would stop yammering on about what ever it was that happened last night, we might be able to figure out this clue.'

Molly and John looked at each other surprised that Sherlock hadn't figured out what happened last night or at least wasn't letting on that he had. John turned back to the cupboard pulling down three mugs instead of just one to make them all a cup of tea and Sherlock grabbed the open chair next to Molly at the table.

'John, as you know, the clue was of an online auction for the clippings that Joe stole from Molly's greenhouse. From what I saw of Mick last night and the fact that this clue was left for us, we can tell that Moriarty was oblivious to Molly's ... attack until Mick was arrested for it. He is apparently not very pleased and I believe that Joe is on the lam and Moriarty is pointing us to him.'

'See...' Molly chimed in, 'This is what I was showing Sherlock... you can see here the date the auctions went up and it was the night of Mick's arrest... and I know Jim wouldn't sell these clippings. He wanted them too badly for that and from what Sherlock told me, he really doesn't need the money.'

'That means that Joe is selling them to make a quick buck and to stay in hiding from Moriarty.'

'So how do we use all of this to catch Joe?' John asked as he placed a cup in front of each of them.

'Sherlock won one of the auctions and is meeting with him tomorrow morning.' Molly said eyeing the detective, who looked pleased as punch with himself.

'What?!' John asked searching Sherlock's face for an explanation.

'Seemed the easiest approach.' Sherlock shrugged 'Mycroft won't even notice the funds are missing for a couple of weeks.' He smirked at his ability to irk his brother.

'But where? When? I mean... what's the plan here? Please tell me you have a plan.'

'John...really' Sherlock scuffed 'It's no big deal. I'm to meet him tomorrow morning at 5 AM at a cafe in the New Convent Flower Market. There he will be arrested and we can move on to bigger fish.'

John stared at his best friend. He suddenly felt even more exhausted than he ever had before. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and chuckled. 'Amazing. You, Sherlock, are amazing. I can't believe what you can get done in the wee hours of the morning while I am ... well while everyone is asleep.'

He brought his hands up and rubbed his eyes and then brought them to the small of his back and pressed on it to arch his back until it cracked agin. He eyed his two companions skeptically, shook his head again and stifled a yawn. 'Jesus. You know what - I really am exhausted. It seems to me you two have this all figured out so I am going to head up those stairs and sleep for at least another...' he glanced at his watch and did a quick calculation 'another five hours in MY bed. Then us three are going out for an early dinner - yes, Sherlock, all three of us and we're figuring out the rest of the plan for tomorrow. and with that ... Good night.'

Molly and Sherlock just stared as he nodded to them, strode across the kitchen and out of sight up the stairs that lead to his room.

'Not much of a morning person, is he?' Molly queried with her eyebrows raised.

'Nope.' Sherlock said as he shook his head and headed into the other room. 'He really is not.'


	16. Chapter 16

Author Note: Thanks to everyone who is following and have posted reviews. If you haven't already, please R&R but please be gentle.

I am honestly in love with this chapter... I hope you guys love it too and don't throw too many tomatoes at me because of it.

Enjoy...

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

After John went back to bed, Sherlock decided it would be best for him to scope out the Flower market. He had never been to this particular market before though he had walked by it many times on his walks throughout the city. Because of Molly's knowledge of this world of horticulture, flower shops, distributors, etc., he invited her along on this little adventure – as he called it. Molly was a little nervous about going out to some place where there would be so many people especially after her near panic attack the day before but with Sherlock by her side she felt she could pretty much handle anything, especially something so fun as the flower market. She, of course, had been many times and had even made friends with some of the vendors who had stalls there.

When they arrived at the market, Sherlock strode down the middle aisle searching for the café where he was to meet Joe in the morning. It didn't take long to find it and when he turned to comment as such to Molly, he saw she wasn't there. In a moment of panic for his lost companion, he looked back down the aisle and saw her in deep conversation with a man – a flower shop owner about five years her senior, hard worker, loved his job but not his business partner, left handed, dog-owner, and an ex-skier. Sherlock tugged his eyebrows together and thought about dragging Molly back to the task at hand but then the bloke said something to her and something he hadn't heard in awhile – Molly's laugh – spread down the row. She really seemed to be in her element and with her people here, he mused. He tilted his head at her - observing her for a moment - and decided it was best to leave her be while he did his work. He set about putting together a plan for tomorrow's meeting without a second thought of the brunette's absence from his side.

ooOOooOOoo

Molly laughed again and looked around to try and spot Sherlock. She knew she had lost him a while ago and she still couldn't see him again from where she stood. That quickly pulled her out of her conversation with her friend – Ryan. She looked at the clock that stood on the wall down the aisle above where Sherlock should have been and realized she had been talking to the flower shop owner for over 20 minutes.

'Oh my, look at the time. I better go see where my friend has gotten to.' She said as she leaned over and gave Ryan a hug 'It was so good to see you.'

'You too!' Ryan countered ' Be sure to stop by this week so I can set you up with that bouquet you said you needed.'

'Absolutely!' she smiled 'Bye!'

She turned down the aisle and walked to the café. There she saw Sherlock at a table in the corner looking completely bored and obviously waiting for her. But he had been nice enough to grab two cups of tea, which sat in front of him.

'Why didn't you come and get me?' Molly asked as she sat beside him.

'You looked like you were catching up with an old friend. I had no need to intervene. Besides I needed time to work out my plan for tomorrow so it worked out for both of us.'

'Oh – well… I'm glad it wasn't any trouble…'

'Not in the least.'

Molly and Sherlock sat amiably for a while finishing their tea and they started a rather strange game. Sherlock would point to a flower or a plant and Molly would tell him what it was. He was most fascinated with the flowers that had medicinal purposes – 'You never know when this might actually be useful.' He had told her 'definitely not something to delete.' This made Molly giggle – not just the thought of Sherlock running through a garden trying to find just the right flower but of him actually learning something from _her_ and cataloging things that she told him.

As they got up to leave, Sherlock said 'Oh, I almost forgot…' He reached to the chair opposite of Molly's and came back with the most beautiful crimson rose. 'For you.'

'Sherlock – it's so beautiful. But what's it for?'

'What do mean? It's a flower. It's for… well.. decoration.'

' No, silly. I mean why did you get it for me?'

'It reminded me of you so I picked it up. Not only is it a rose – your self-proclaimed favorite, but it is also the exact shade of your lipstick.'

'My lipstick? I'm not wearing lipstick…' she said - her fingers going to her lips.

'You do do sometimes and when you do it's this color.'

Molly gaped at him for a moment as it dawned on her that he did notice… he did see her… even still after all he had seen of her after the attack… of her unending tears…he still remembered moments like when she would put lipstick on just for him. A tear escaped down her cheek.

Sherlock stepped towards her and put his hand up to cup her face – she could feel it tremor slightly in uncertainty – and wiped the offending tear away with his thumb. He left his hand resting there as he finished (and at that moment it felt like the most natural thing in the world for them both).

'I thought it would make you happy – make you smile – not make you cry. I must not have chosen the appropriate one.' He said quietly – his brows knitted together over his eyes which shone with worry and almost what seemed to be vulnerability.

She turned her head, closing her eyes in the process and kissed him palm 'No – this one … this one is perfect. You were perfect.'

Sherlock felt overcome with something he couldn't quite pinpoint and almost on complete instinct leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. He leaned back for a second trying to register her reaction. Her eyes opened filled with surprise but also of want and desire. She closed them again as he pressed his lips to hers a second time but this time with more force than before. With this kiss, she leaned into him. Her arms snaked around his neck and her hands slid into the back of his hair as he tilted his head for a better angle and better access. His tongue pressed the seam of her mouth and tickled her bottom lip until she let him in to explore. Her knees were like jelly and she swayed ever so slightly until his arm went around her waist pulling her close to his taut chest. She felt herself melt into his arms and a small groan escaped her as their lips wrestled and the fervor rose. Her mind was completely devoid of thought until suddenly one word popped into her head.

'John.' She whispered. 'No, Sherlock. No… I can't do this.' She said pushing back away from the detective 'I can't do this to him. God… I love you … I've always loved you but I'm in love with him… and I think he might just love me too. I can't pass that up like this. I know you… you are new to all of this but this.' She motioned between the two of them 'will break… will break his heart ' her voiced cracked 'and mine too.'

She looked desperately to him for some sort of response but he stood there over her like a statue – arms still at her waist - without an iota of understanding rolling across his eyes. 'I just… I can't…I just can't do this…. I've got to go.' She said rushing away from him dropping her rose in the process and leaving Sherlock standing there alone and stunned.

ooOOooOOoo

John came down the stairs buttoning up his shirt.

'Hey you guys ready for dinner?' he asked as he walked into the living room. There he only found Sherlock – who was spread out on the sofa with a red rose across his chest and his hands steepled together under his chin.

'Where's Molly?'

'Well, John, we were at the flower market and we, well, we…' His eyebrows knit together as trying to figure out what the appropriate thing in this type of social situation it would be to say ' had an argument of sorts and Molly ran off.'

'And you didn't follow her?'

'Trust me, John. She didn't want me to follow her.'

'Why wouldn't she then? What did you do or say to her to make her run off like that?'

'I think she needed some time and space to… sort some things out. That's all.' Sherlock said as he turned on to his side away from John taking the rose in his hands.

'Hmph' John grunted knowing that was for all intents and purposes the end of the conversation and all he was going to get out of Sherlock on the matter. He walked to the kitchen to make some tea and texted Molly.

_Just woke up and Sherlock said you had left. You OK?_ – JW

John waited but no response.

_Molly, I don't know what he said to you . It's obvious he upset you. But, please at least let me know you're okay.._ – JW

_Yes – I'm ok. Just need some time_ – MH

_Ok. But if you need anything let me know… and if you went home, get that lock fixed!_ - JW

ooOOooOOoo

Molly had struggled just sending John that small seven word text. How was she supposed to ever face him again. She paced in her living room as she struggled over what to do.

She mulled the two men over in her mind. Ending up in the middle somewhere with the thought - But it wasn't like no one knew about her feelings for Sherlock – to her chagrin of course… and HE had kissed her and was so God damned romantic in a Sherlockian non-senseical kind of way – _'because it reminded me of you.'_ God, she still melted just thinking of that rose. Would John ever give her flowers based on her lipstick color? Probably not but he would still give her flowers and spoil her with love and feelings and things Molly wasn't sure if Sherlock would even know about let alone do. Sherlock was … well… Sherlock. If you enter into any type of relationship with him you kind of know what you are getting … but she loved that genius even though she could live without those rough edges he had… but John didn't have rough edges… all he wanted was for her to be happy and loved and safe.

She sighed – she really had no idea what to do. Three weeks ago she didn't have this problem.

She looked over to the door and sighed again. Of course John would ask about the lock. She had rushed home after the kiss at the flower market. She had needed time alone to think… to figure out what to do… not just with the fact that apparently both John and Sherlock had feelings for her but also struggling with the fact that though she felt completely safe and in fact in love with both of these men – what did that mean… was she even ready for something like that? She couldn't go out of the house without a panic attack – was she ready for something like this… she just needed time to figure all of this out. So, of course, when she made it back to her flat, her door was still not fixed. Why would anything go right that day... She went in and called the landlord only to find out he wasn't coming until much later that afternoon. Molly shook her head – well... nothing she can do now except wait. She fed and petted Toby and the grey cat and went into her bedroom closing the door behind her. She unceremoniously flopped herself onto the bed on her back and pulled her pillow over her head with a groan – seeking shelter from the outside world and where fate seemed to have taken her.

Just then she heard the bedroom door creak open.

'Back so soon, poppet? I thought you would have been out with Lover-Boy for at least another hour.'

Molly whipped her head up to see Jim leaning against the door jamb. She gasped and scrambled back towards the headboard. Once there she saw it – a gun hanging loosely in his hand.

'John won't be happy to hear that you've been so naughty' his voice sing songed as glee spread across his face. 'that's why it's going to be sooo fun to tell him.' He grinned down at her – scratching the side of his head with the barrel of his gun.

'What are you talking about? What do you want?' She yelped as he approached her bed.

'Oh, Molly. Sweet Molly. I just like to keep an eye on my toys and it looks like somebody's been playing with this one.' Jim said as he bent down and stoked her cheek only to slap it afterwards. She cried out as he reached his hand back to run her ponytail over his palm and grabbed it at the crown and pulled her head back.

'Did you forget who you belong to, Mollykins? Did you forget that you were mine?'

Molly trembled as tears rolled down her cheeks

'Jim – We broke up. I'm not yours anymore.'

'You'll always be mine, Molly.'

'If I was yours then how could you have allowed… how could you have allowed those men to … to have ... have raped me?'

'Who? Mick and Joe. Oh, Honey – I know… I know.' He patted her head in mock sympathy and sincerity 'Don't you worry. Daddy is taking care of them just like I'm going to take care of your new boyfriends.'

'No!' Molly sobbed.

'Now, come on, _whore_' Jim jerked her up off the bed, his arm around her throat and dragged her to the door 'We have a date with destiny and we've only so much time to get ready.'


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: Okay Guys, we have reached the climax of our story. It is twice as long as what I normally would write but is worth the extra effort. Please enjoy and review.

Just so you know there will be one more chapter.

Disclaimer: Please know that I do not own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A.C. Doyle.

* * *

John leaned forward in his chair and worked on cleaning his gun while glaring at his roommate, whose back was still turned towards him. It had been hours since he had texted Molly and he was trying to mentally prepare for tomorrow, of which there was still no plan. Typical… During this time, he had also yet to find out what had happened between Molly and Sherlock.

'Come on, you arse… it couldn't have been so bad that you need to sulk all night. Just tell me what you did to her and we can figure out the best course of action to get her back here away from that death trap of a flat before it is time for us to leave in the morning.' John said exasperatedly to Sherlock as he put the clip back into the Browning and rubbed a little excess gun oil from the barrel of the gun.

Sherlock would never have admitted to John what had happened at the flower market. He knew he had crossed a line somewhere. He wasn't exactly sure where or what line but he was sure if he told John that he had kissed Molly in public in broad daylight whilst John was at home sleeping, he may not take it very well. He also knew he would never admit to his stomach turning at little when John had said 'what you did to her'. When did he become the bad guy in this whole situation? Hadn't Molly kissed him back? And it wasn't like he had planned this – it was all instinct. Everyone knew that's how he worked best… off of instinct and intuition. It's not his fault he had been spending so much time with John that these… feelings – he grimaced even at the thought of them – were making their way to the surface. Sherlock threw a glare over his shoulder, hmphed at John and went back to staring at the back of the sofa.

'Fine!' John grumbled as he slid the gun into his waistband 'Fine. Be that way. Such a child…always acting like a petulant three-year old. Well, you know what, I'm tired of it. I'm going out for… for some air.' He grabbed his coat and, as he slipped it on, he added 'And when I come back whether it be in an hour or in four in the morning when it is time to leave for this damned meeting of yours, you and I are going to have a little talk. And, yes, Sherlock, you will be participating this time, so be ready to talk or make up with Molly by then. Otherwise, I am marching you over there to apologize. For what? Lord only knows but I am sure, considering you are part of this equation, an apology is needed.'

John slammed the door behind him for good measure and headed down the 17 stairs and into the night. Sherlock was on his feet now and watched him go up the path and turn down the sidewalk towards his favorite pub. He saw John stop suddenly, reach into his pocket and fish out his phone. He read a text that must have been sent and looked up towards the flat. Sherlock ducked behind the curtains so not to be caught in watching him. By the time, he peeked back out the window John had gone. Sherlock lay back on the sofa and sniffed the rose. When did this all get so complicated? He wondered as he closed his eyes.

OoOOooOOoo

John took the stairs to Molly's flat two at a time. His heart was pounding… not just because of the hell he had just put some cabbie through or the run to Molly's building and up the stairs but also because of the memory of the text he had received not fifteen minutes ago.

'Come out and play, Johnny. XOXO'

It had come from Molly's phone but it was obvious that it wasn't from her. In fact, it really could only have been from one person and the thought of that person having access to Molly's phone sent chills down his spine and into his soul.

He wasn't sure why he didn't go to get Sherlock when he received the text. He had considered it just for a second but didn't want to waste the time and had ran to grab a cab. He could have texted him en route but he doubted the detective would even look at his text at this point, not after him storming out like that just then… and he had been so busy yelling at the cabbie to go faster it just never happened. So, now here he was on his own heading into who knows what.

He pulled the gun out of his waistband, thanking god that he had been so mad when he stormed out that he stuffed it into the back of his jeans when he left instead of putting it in the lock box in his dresser where he had intended to put it after cleaning it.

As he reached the landing, he could see Molly's door was hanging open. He darted to the wall next to the door's frame and peeked in to see if there was any immediate danger. He didn't see anyone in the living room and entered with his gun held high.

'Molly?' He said aloud "Molly, are you here? Are you okay?'

No answer. He checked in the kitchen, the bathroom and then headed into the bedroom.

'Molly, are you in here?' He asked as he pushed open the door. His heart dropped at the sight. Her normally tidy room – okay, he had seen it once, but it had been tidy then – seemed torn to shreds. The covers and sheets were torn from the bed, the knick-knacks that once sat on her dresser were thrown across the carpet, and there was a part of the frame that had cracked as if someone had pulled on it too hard. But the part that stopped his heart and tore it from his chest was the small drops of blood on the carpet next to the doorway.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. To his amazement, Sherlock picked up.

'Sherlock, it's Molly.'

'I know.'

'No... no, you don't, Sherlock. She's be abducted…by Moriarty'

'I'll be there in ten.'

John ended the call and then texted Lestrade. He was going to need as much help as he could get at this point.

As he waited, he looked around the flat. Just then, he noticed on the table, a fresh bouquet of roses… black roses. He walked over the table and saw tucked under the vase a folded piece of paper addressed to him. He unfolded it, read it and rushed out the door.

OoOOooOOoo

John rushed to the alley way – that same alley way from that night that seemed so far way now – he remembered coming up on Sherlock crouching over Molly in the most protective way he had ever seen the detective be towards anyone besides himself and Mrs. Hudson. Oh, how his life had changed since then. He shook the memories away as he pulled the gun from his waistband for the second time that night as he approached the dead end. There behind the dumpster, he saw them. Two bare feet, sticking out just as Molly's had so many nights before. John's heart dropped.

'Molly?' he whispered… more like hoarsely screamed panickedly. He ran to the dumpster and glanced down realizing very quickly it wasn't Molly at all, but a man - their suspect – Joe.

John nudged the man's foot but he didn't wake or move, so the doctor moved closer to check for his pulse. He knelt down next to Joe and reached his fingers to his neck – no pulse. John sighed and his eyes swept over the body. He could see the blood now that had seeped from the back of Joe's head in the dim glimmer of the street light. Just then John heard the creak of a shoe behind him. He whipped he head around to see who it was only to see the glint of the butt of a gun arching toward him and then everything went black.

OoOOooOOoo

John woke with a start. His eyes shot around assessing the situation and soon he realized he was in dome deep shite. Still in the alley, his left arm was cuffed to the dumpster and was stretched above him. His shoulder screamed in pain from having held this position for too long but John knew he couldn't struggle against the cuffs in fear of injuring his hand – his dominant hand – any further. His ankles started to feel wet and he looked down and could see Joe's blood had started to seep into the cuffs of his jeans.

He flinched as he heard footsteps coming towards him and looked up to see Jim Moriarty towering above him with a smirk on his face.

'Finally – Geez, Johnny Boy, you sure slept for a long time. I guess I shouldn't hit you quite that hard next time, hmm?' he sing-songed ' So sorry about the handcuffs but wouldn't want you to get away now would we? Besides, I can tell you must like a little rough anyway, so cuffs can't be a new thing.'

'What is all of this, Moriarty? Where's Molly? Let her go.'

'Tsk-Tsk, John. Patience is a virtue.'

'Patience my ass! Tell me where you have her!'

'Pet, you really are in no position to be sooo demanding… now are you? Might I remind you who is chained to a dumpster and who has the gun… actually make that two guns. Such a nice gun, you have here, John. Browning – army issue. I must say. Are you sure you should be running around the streets of London with this?'

John glared at Moriarty as he caressed _his_ gun. If he could get free of these cuffs at this second, he would leap on the man and pull him apart not just for taking Molly but also for even thinking about touching his gun.

'Ahh – John. I see we have something in common then. We both don't like to have our things touched. You can see what I do when someone touches my things…' he said as he gestured to the body. He then tilted his head and the gun at John, contemplating him for a second and then said 'and I believe that you and Sherlock are next on my list. But first, I think it is reunion time. Oh, Sherlock, why don't you come out now? I could hear your shoes squeak all the way from here… and we have so much to talk about before I kill your pet and then you.'

Sherlock strode down the alley. 'There' Moriarty said pointing the gun towards a spot next to John ' Stand over there.' Sherlock looked to John and went to stand next to him.

Moriarty turned to the door behind him, opened it and pulled a whimpering Molly out by her hair. John gasped at the sight of her and he could even hear what seemed to be a sharp intake from Sherlock. Molly stood there shivering in a man's white button down and little else. Blood had seeped through the shirt and it clung to her body showing what could only have been cuts all over her chest, abdomen and along her arms. John could only assume they were along her back as well. He also saw blood dripping down the inside of her leg – damn it – damn it all. He moved his gaze to Molly's and saw fear – stark white untamed fear of the man whose grip on her tightened as if he was holding up a fish he had caught.

'I see you are enjoying my handy work, John. Every cut you see was the slut's own fault. She knew I would cut her every time she yelled for either of you. And oh did she yell… But I found a way to shut her up...'

He stared wildly between the two men as he grabbed her and slid his hand down her side and along the curve of her hip grabbing her there so hard, little red moons spread from under her shirt. She cried out at the pain.

'You know when I was little, I had a brother who loved to steal my toys. I hated when he stole my toys because he would always break them and why should he get all the fun with MY toy anyway? So I found that the only way to stop him from taking my things was to break them myself. Because no matter what I would rather have a very broken toy then ever allow my brother to have fun with or enjoy something that was MINE. So do you see what I have done here, boys? Hmm? It appears I've broken my toy.' He said as he threw Molly forward to the ground. 'Because she has been a naughty whore – now hasn't she? And to think I had yet to play with her – but it seems she had plenty of time to play with so many others.'

Molly whimpered and tried to crawl away. 'Oh no you don't!' Jim roared as he kicked her down. Then he bent over and grabbed her shoulder pulling her up next to him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and splayed his hand along her lower abdomen possessively. Tears streamed down her face and she sobbed as he pressed against her.

'Shut it! The men are talking.'

Molly whimpered and bit her lips together trying not to sob aloud but John and Sherlock could see the sobs still rack her now silent body.

'So help me God…! Let her go!' John screamed

'Oh, Johnny Boy' he chuckled 'Would you really be so quick to her rescue if you knew what she and your best friend were up to this afternoon? Hmm?'

John shot Sherlock a quizzical glance and looked back to the woman he … well… he loved. 'I don't care. Leave her be.'

'You don't care? You don't CARE?! She can flirt and kiss and SHAG whomever she wants then and still crawl home to you? Not me. I don't play like that. No one touches my things – NO ONE!'

John gasped and looked at Sherlock. He refused to look John in the eye. He stood there like a statue almost as though he was in shock but even though John wasn't facing him, he knew Sherlock would find a way out of this and was working on it now. No matter what, John knew what he needed to do – stall.

'I don't believe you. She was raped … by YOUR men. She isn't a whore. She is a … she's a victim.'

'Oh, trust me, Johnny, Your best friend and your whore were spotted today at New Convent Market. Couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other… or their mouths. Really, Sherlock? Might I need to start calling you something other than the Virgin thanks to our little Molly Hooper?'

'Nooo!' Molly cried.

'What dear? Was I not supposed to tell? Oopsy.' Jim popped an 'I'm so sorry' face.

'I didn't… We didn't, John. We just kissed.' Molly sobbed.

'It's okay, Molly. It's okay…' John said trying to placate her from across the way.

'Hmm…' Jim tilted his head again at this exchange and narrowed his eyes. He pulled his hand to her hair again and pulled Molly's face towards his and then pushed it away roughly. 'Interesting. It seems John doesn't mind taking scraps from the table. So like a pet. So, tell me, Johnny. What do you think of our Molly, here? Even after all of this… even after I broke her – do you still want her?'

John stared at this mad man with a gun and answered 'Yes – I love her.'

'And, you, Sherlock, how do you feel about this … this normal?'

'She's my girl – always has been. Even before you.'

'And, Molly, who do you choose? Hmm? Both these men have bore their souls just now to you and you have betrayed them both. But you must have a favorite… So who will it be the Virgin or the Pet?' He pointed the gun to each man as he said his "name".

Molly looked between the two men. She knew whoever she choose would likely be shot. She didn't want… she couldn't live with.. she didn't know how to even begin to choose.

'Hmm?' He asked her as he ran the gun down he cheek. 'I know which one I would pick.'

'I can't!' She sobbed. 'I can't choose. I want... I need them both.'

'That's awfully selfish of you. You have to share with the rest of us. Though a three-way… awfully kinky ... especially for you.' He thrust his hips towards hers 'But who would be on top?'

'Leave her be!' John yelled.

'Oh – did I hit a nerve, Johnny Boy? Don't you worry your pretty little head. The odds are still in your favor that she'll pick you. Everyone knows Sherlock will grow bored with her the next time a case comes up anyway. Isn't that right, Sherly?' He brought his cheek up next to hers and shifted his eyes to look at her from the corners 'Pathetic – isn't she? So… so ... normal…' he snarled – pulling her hair again and repositioning the gun under her chin. 'Choose!'

She gasped at the pain and sobbed 'Just leave them be, Jim. Just take me and leave them be.'

'Oh, Molly. Haven't you been listening? I marked you and I broke you. Why do I need YOU anymore? Did you really think I kept those toys after I broke them? Please - I just threw them away like I have been planning to do to you but this… this is so much more fun. This is a game. And when you have a game, you have a winner and a loser. If these men want to scramble over my broken toys – well…I just might let one of them win… Now CHOOSE!'

'Sherlock! I chose Sherlock.' She sobbed

'Wow – Molly – So changeable. I thought for sure the good doctor would have been your choice.' Moriarty raised the Browning pointing it towards John 'Oh well. Say Good Night, John-Boy.'

John stared at the gun and started to rise from where he sat holding out his right hand 'No – Please God, No...' He moaned

Just then Molly jostled Moriarty's arm and Sherlock turned and pushed John, making Jim's true aim miss its original target - John's heart - and landing in his chest instead. John slumped back against the dumpster and slid down, blood seeping from his chest and down the side of the metal behind him.

"Nooo! John! Noooo!' Molly screamed.

'John?!' Sherlock shouted stooping down next to the doctor.

Just then shouts echoed down the alley 'Put your hands up, Moriarty!' Lestrade yelled as he ran forwards, Donovan and the rest of his team trailing behind him.

'I believe this is my cue. Be seeing you… soon.' Moriarty said as he dropped the gun, pushed Molly to the ground and exited through the door directly behind him.

Lestrade waved his team to follow the criminal and he, Donovan and Molly all ran forward to an unconscious John, whose hand was being wrenched free from the cuff by Sherlock.

Sherlock turned to Lestrade. Lestrade was startled by the pure devastation in the young man's face. 'Ambulance?!'

'It's on it's way, Sherlock. 5 minutes behind us at most.'

'I need it quicker! We need it now!'

'I know…' Lestrade whispered, grasping Sherlock's shoulder 'I know.'

Molly's medical training kicked in immediately as she reached for his neck – fearfully of what she would find. Just then she felt it – as subtle as butterfly's wing - his pulse.

'Oh my God… Oh my God, he's alive. He's alive…but just barely. Quick, Sherlock, help me lay him down.'

They moved John to lie flat on the ground and she crouched over him and put both her hands down over the bullet hole trying to apply pressure.

'Here.' Sherlock said handing her his scarf. She put it to the wound and again pressed down. Sherlock crouched over John, brushing fringe away from his face and saw as she swayed a little at the effort. 'Molly, here - let me.' He said, scooting behind her.

'No…' She sobbed 'Noo… this is all my fault.'

'Molly, You are hurt. Please let me help.'

'I can't… Sherlock… I can't… let him… He saved me so many times and what did I do? I got him… I chose you and got him shot.'

'You chose me because you thought Moriarty would shot me. I knew that. John knew that. We all knew that. Now, please let me.'

Just then, two paramedics ran forward with a gurney. Lestrade rose and accessed them quickly of the situation. They crouched down to John and Molly sat back on her heels and leaned against Sherlock. He put his arms around her shoulders holding her to him and she turned in his embrace unable to watch as the paramedics as they worked. Sobs shook her body and Sherlock held her in silence as he watched his friend being lifted on to the gurney and carted to the ambulance.

'Come on.' He whispered brushing back her hair. 'Come on, Molly. We can't let him ride to the hospital alone.'

She looked up to his eyes. Those crystalline eyes that had bore into her soul so many times – so filled with sadness at this moment. She nodded, shock seemingly blanketing over her, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Once she was standing, she swayed and fainted into to Sherlock's arms. He held her against him for a second as he realized how in shambles his little family was at this very second. He closed his eyes refocusing on the situation at hand and then scooped her into his arms and followed the gurney to the ambulance.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N – Hey! A big thanks to everyone who favorited this story and me as an author. I am humbled by your attention and love.

A special thanks to : Zora Arian, Adi Who is Also Mou, Harveygirl, magicstrikes, somethinginthewayful, Chloe, MorbidbyDefault, Composition, badwolfette21, MuteBanana, SpencerReidFan89, Luna, RealityKilledMe, lvPayne, Silk Xiaolong, friend2friend1, MsFitzgerald, Wrider1004, Starshortcake, Rocking the Redhead, Empress of Verace, patemalah21, LilBookworm89, Atlantianis, LillyMorgan, Cally and OddOneOut-16 for your reviews and to Stephanie and Anne for being my sounding boards. I can honestly say without all of you this would have never been completed.

So without any further adieu – the final chapter. I hope you enjoy it. And THANK YOU!

Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own any of this. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.

* * *

Six Months later...

Molly woke to the soft click of the door as it opened. Still after six months, her body was on high alert but she had decided she would prefer to be woken up when the guys made it home at night rather than leaving the bedroom door open (even just a crack) and leaving herself vulnerable.

She slept facing the door and opened her eyes to see John shuffle through the doorway and to his dresser not trying to make any noise as he moved. He pulled out his pajamas and his favorite t-shirt and started to undress. As he pulled his jumper over his head, she could see in the moonlight the two large scars burned through the left side of his back. Both were from battle he had told her when he caught her ghosting her fingers over them after they had made love the first time. One was from Afghanistan for queen and country and one was from a battle fought not ten blocks away for the love of his life.

John continued to undress and Molly flipped over to give him at least a little privacy. Soon the bed dipped behind her and John crawled under the covers to settle against her back with his arms snaking out around her waist. She loved when they spooned and often told John how safe it made her feel. He loved that even in her sleep he could offer her this comfort and so they often ended up like this.

As John's breath whispered along the length of her neck, she thought back to the long road that had got them to here. The hundred and two stitches that had held her together after that torturous night at Jim's hand. The week in the hospital sitting next to Sherlock waiting for John to wake.

Oh Sherlock - he had been a saint and the devil wrapped into one those tense first few days. He had harassed the nurses and doctors to no end and in a way only he really could. She lost count of the people who rushed from that room in tears because of his deductions. But in the quiet of the night, as they would sit on the couch together in silence listening to John's heart beep on the monitor - Molly with her feet tucked beneath her and her head on his shoulder and Sherlock with his arm around her rubbing his hand up and down her arm, not only to comfort her but to try to warm her and keep her constant trembling at bay - she knew (and she wanted to believe the staff did too) that he only lashed out like that because his best friend lay across the room strapped to a ventilator. He seemed almost lost without John's guidance and she felt he may have been relying on her as much as she did him. But without that man, she wouldn't have made it through any of this especially when John had taken a turn for the worst and they almost lost him.

God - how many times she had cried that week as they waited but Sherlock was there every step of the way, even when she had tried to leave. She shook her head at the thought. She could still remember the fight John had woken to like it was yesterday...

_'You can't do this, Molly. You just can't. I will not allow you to walk out on John or me for that matter.'_

_'Allow me?! You are not my keeper, Sherlock.'_

_'How could you even be considering this? After all we have been through. After all John has been through. You just want to up and leave?'_

_'No – I don't want to just leave. I want to protect you, you bastard and John. He won't stop. You know he won't. and the police… and your brother – no one can find him. I think… I hope that if I just walk away then you and John will be safe.'_

_'Molly, he will always be after us. He is about the game. It was never a personal vendetta against us about you… it was about the game.'_

_'No, Sherlock. I will not believe that. It was because of what he said…because I was his and he wouldn't have you playing with me. I can't sit here and do nothing. I can't continue to be bait. I love John too much… too much to stay and allow this to happen again. He deserves so much better than some broken toy.' she had yelled as her voice broke, 'I need to leave.'_

_She had tried to push Sherlock out of the way. But Sherlock wouldn't move and had pulled her into his arms as she sobbed. He glanced over to John's bed and saw he was awake. _

_'Molly, what's going on? Where are you going?' John asked._

_She had clutched Sherlock's lapel and turned her head in a gasp to John's voice._

_'John?'_

_'Morning, Sunshine. I'm not sure exactly what's going on here but (yawn) I hope you stay 'cause I love you...' his voice had trailed off in the end as he faded back to sleep but both she and Sherlock had heard._

She of course had stayed and had soaked Sherlock's shirt with tears that night. John still joked that he had to wake up just to keep the peace... That's John though - always cracking jokes and keeping his "family" together even in his least lucid states.

She remembered how the next day Sherlock came in with two cups of tea and told her she was now a resident of 221C Baker St. She was a little upset to not have been consulted in the matter of where she lived but both John and Sherlock agreed there was no way under no circumstances she would ever step foot in her old apartment again and so she didn't. She went to Baker St. that night to clean up and found all of her things had been packed and moved already. She asked Sherlock about the costs and if he would let her pay but he told her it had been a favor from someone and she wasn't to worry. Later, she found out he had asked his brother, Mycroft, to take care of it for him and his older bother did it in exchange for a few cases. She really felt loved that day.

As time went on, John finally had made it out of the hospital and home. He was fairly weak for awhile but she and Mrs. Hudson fed him up and took care of him. It gave her purpose and made her feel like she was doing something to help.

Early on, they started to develop a routine each night, after dinner and watching some crap telly together, she would rise from the couch and lean over and kiss him good night and telling him 'I love you and I hope you always remember that I choose you.' John would kiss her back and whisper 'I love you too' and then see her to the door and watch her as she went down the stairs.

Eventually, they started sleeping together - just sleeping mind you. She found that after settling home after the second attack and the long nights at the hospital her nightmares came back with a vengeance. She had a few nights where she woke the entire house with her screams. Despite, the two flights of stairs, John had rushed to her side each time and stayed with her those nights - his strong arms holding her tight as she trembled and wept. She started to see a therapist after the second nightmare and eventually they found it easier (and much better for Mrs. Hudson's heart) to just stay in the same bed together. Molly had confessed to John one night that she felt safer in his room than hers since Moriarty hadn't ever been there before and Sherlock was usually downstairs playing or pacing and could ward off the rest of the world for them and that was how she became a permanent resident of 221B.

John started to get his strength back and within a couple of moths, he and Sherlock spent many nights out on a case. She eventually made it back to work too and was glad despite being gone for more than a month that her job still was waiting for her. Life seemed to go back to normal.

Occasionally they would hear word of Jim but he never in all this time had sent her any more flowers or texts. Sherlock had tried to explain to her that Moriarty had given her up that night but she was still always a little wary when they spoke of him.

Even though they shared a home and more importantly a bed, John had been a complete gentleman the entire time. He seemed to have the patience of a saint and he always let her initiate anything intimate since her knew she had so many things to work through. But one night after a candlelight dinner at Angelo's, one thing had led to another and they had made love for the first time. Since then it seemed that they could barely keep their hands off each other, which drove Sherlock insane. Not because he was jealous - he had long conceded that John and Molly were perfect companions and he would not ever step in the way of that - but because as he put it 'if I wanted to see two people pawing at each other this much, I would take a walk through the park on a Saturday night.' John always chuckled when he said that and would go back to kissing her almost immediately.

It was a happy life... a content one... something she hadn't ever expected for herself after that first night in the alley.

She leaned back against John's chest and sighed. Despite Jim and those torturous attacks - despite the nightmares and the things that she had lived though and that still haunted her in her dreams - despite everything, she felt safe here - not just at 221B but here in John's arm as the little spoon. Here she knew no matter what she would always be home and would always be loved.

-The End-


End file.
